Dandelion Crowns and Paper Butterflies
by BookLoverDutch
Summary: What happens when Winston finds a girl in the Glade? What happens when they fall in love with each other? And what the heck is going on with Tim and Josiah? (Set just after 'Nothing Really Matters' and 'Dark Days', originally called "Origami Butterflies".)
1. Jealous Asshole

It is the middle of the night.

Everyone is asleep, but it is completely silent; you can't hear the sound of the usual snoring, or the soft ticking of the beetle blades, or the creaking footsteps on the stairs of the Homestead when someone needs to use the toilet.

No sound at all, except for the quiet sound of Winston's bare feet on the grass.

He is walking towards the Deadheads, towards the large, empty space in the middle of the forest where the Gladers bury their dead. When he enters the open spot, it feels like he can't breathe for a moment.

He can read the names on the tombstones even from his spot, five metres away from them, even in the dim light which the Glade is covered in.

 _Stephen._

 _Nick._

And the new name, which has only been written there for a couple of hours.

 _Lauren._

Tears prick behind Winston's eyes.

He has only seen her two times; the first time when she got sent up with the Box and ran away, and a second time during a Gathering. He remembers very well what he had said then.

 _"The doors will close in half an hour,"_ he had said. _"If we want to banish her, we have to do it quickly."_

He wonders why he was so mean, why he wanted to get rid of her, though he knows the answer.

He was jealous.

Jealous that she and Newt got to be happy, together. Perhaps they didn't even know that they were in love with each other back then, but it was obvious. The way they talked about each other... like nothing else existed.

But it was only this afternoon that Winston actually realized _what_ Lauren had meant to Newt.

Her funeral had been this day, three days after she died. She had been shot while trying to save Newt, and had died in the Homestead. The Med-Jacks hadn't been able to save her. And the worst thing is: Winston had _wanted_ her dead.

He was such a jealous asshole.

He wanted to find love, too, to be happy with someone. He didn't want to be jealous again, so he wanted to pull Newt and Lauren apart. It was the wrong way.

Why didn't he realize that earlier?

While fighting back tears, he slowly walks towards the tombstone with Lauren's name carved into it. The grass pricks in his feet, but he doesn't mind.

Kneeling down at Lauren's grave, he looks at the flower he is holding in his hand, and then at the bundle of flowers that is already lying on the hard ground. Those are Newt's, there is no doubting that.

Winston fiddles at the rope that is holding the flowers together and puts his own flower in the bundle.

 _Done. No one will notice._

When he has tied the ends of the cord back again, he closes his eyes for a moment, like he is trying to contact Lauren's spirit or something, and quietly whispers: "I'm so sorry, Lauren."

Then he stands up and runs away, silent tears blurring his vision.

* * *

Winston sits down on one of the benches next to the Box, his cheeks wet with tears. He buries his face in his hands.

 _Shit, I'm such an asshole,_ he thinks. _I'm a stupid, selfish asshole._

 _Why can't I do anything right?_

 _Why do I always have to be the one that messes things up and gets people to hate him?_

He decides right there, right then, that he doesn't care if someone sees or hears him.

He starts to cry, that ugly way of crying that only people who totally hate themselves use, with loud sobs and jerking shoulders.

He doesn't know how long he sits there. Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? It feels like forever to him.

His loud crying has just turned into quiet sobbing when he hears a sound. It sounds like someone is scraping his nails over something. The sound immediately stops, but not fast enough to prevent Winston from hearing where it came from.

It came out of the Box.

 _No, that can't be right. There's nobody in the Box._

 _Perhaps it's a beetle blade or something._

Winston keeps sitting there for another couple of seconds, waiting for another sound, footsteps or something, but everything remains completely silent. Winston's curiosity wins from his urge to keep sitting, and he lowers his hands.

He doesn't see anything; the Box is empty, except for two crates that haven't been brought away yet. Winston walks towards the edge of the Box, so that he can see everything that is inside it, and looks down.

The sight makes him gasp.

A _girl_ is lying on the floor of the metal Box.

She is unconscious.

 _How did she get there?_ Winston wonders. _And why is there_ another _girl in the Glade?_

A part of him wants to leave her there, doesn't want to get involved, but she looks so small, so fragile, that he simply knows that he can't leave her there; he knows that he'll feel guilty afterwards.

So he starts to climb into the Box. The metal floor is cold as ice beneath his bare feet.

Shivering, he kneels down next to the girl.

 **So, I've started a new story, a long story! About Winston! Someone most people hate! But I'm gonna convince you that he's a good guy! I promise!**


	2. Ink

"Hey. Girl. Wake up."

A soft voice pulls her back into consciousness.

Immediately, it feels like ink is streaming into her mind, colouring everything black. Her head feels empty, and it takes her a couple of seconds before she realizes _why_.

Her memories are gone.

Who her parents are, where she lived, even her name is gone, fading in the blackness.

A shock goes through her body, and a mental arm quickly grasps something before it can disappear.

 _Flore._

 _That must be my name! Quick, grab something else._

The mental arm draws out once again, but it can't reach another memory before it turns black and disappears.

The boy's voice – yes, it is definitely a boy – sounds again, and this time, a strong hand grabs her shoulder. She knows that he is going to shake her, and she pulls away before he can do it.

Her eyes fly open, looking right into a boy's face.

Half of his face is hidden behind black hair. The visible half is covered in acne; the forces of puberty have surely taken their toll on him. A pair of dark eyes, nearly black, is looking at her, startled but curious.

Flore sits upright, wincing at the pain of her stiff muscles. She opens her mouth to say something, but the boy speaks earlier.

"What... What are you doing here?" he asks, making anger boil up inside her.

"Well, I was wondering that, too," she snaps at him. "How am I supposed to know what I'm doing here when I can't even remember my last name?"

The boy curses under his breath.

"Okay, I-I'm sorry," he says, sounding a little less rude. "I thought... I just thought..."

" _What_ did you think?" Flore snaps impatiently. She knows that she isn't acting very nice, but who wouldn't be in a bad mood if she woke up without memories of who she was?

The boy facing her flinches.

"There was another girl," he says quietly. "Her memory wasn't wiped."

Flore feels something of jealousy. Why did that other girl get to keep her memories, but Flore didn't get to?

"But... what do you mean, 'another girl'?" she asks. It sounds so weird, like they've never seen a girl before.

The boy's voice becomes even smaller, as if he is scared.

"I mean that there are only boys here," he whispers. "There weren't any girls before about two weeks ago. And... you're the second one to ever get here."

Flore swallows difficultly.

A place with only boys? That sounds weird in so many ways.

"What is this place?" she asks, but her voice is only a hoarse whisper.

The boy suddenly seems to wake up from a trance. He stands up.

"I'll ask Alby to show you, tomorrow," he says. "It's a little hard when it's the middle of the night."

Flore wants to ask who Alby is, but she puts the question away when the boy holds out a hand to help her stand up. She grips hold of it, surprised at how he has changed in less than two seconds.

When she is on her feet, she sees that the boy is only a little longer than she is. They are both kinda short.

"I'm Winston, by the way," the boy says, and Flore involuntarily notices that they had been talking for at least five minutes without knowing each other's names.

"Flore," she introduces herself curtly.

One corner of Winston's mouth curls up a little, as if he likes her name or something, but the half-smile disappears quickly.

"Let's get you a place to sleep," he says, looking at her. "You must be freezing."

Flore looks down at her clothes. She is wearing only a simple, black tank top and denim shorts. Her feet are bare. It is only then that she realizes how cold it is.

"You're right," she says, nodding.

Winston's mouth curls into that half-smile again, and he starts to help her out of the metal elevator where she has woken up.

When she has climbed onto the grass, she catches glimpses of high walls, but it is hard to see in the darkness. Winston pulls himself out of the elevator, next to her. He stands up, brushing the grass off his clothes.

"Come on," he says, gesturing that she has to follow him.

They walk through an empty field, towards a small farm. Winston points at a ladder, which is standing against the wall beneath a window.

"You can sleep at the attic, for now," he says. "It's too late to get you a sleeping bag."

Flore nods.

"Okay," she says, stepping on the ladder. "Goodnight."

"Night," Winston responds before walking away.

Flore climbs towards the window. She notices that she isn't having much trouble keeping her balance; before she even realizes it, she has scrambled into the attic.

The room behind the window is small and cosy. It is just high enough for Flore to not hit her head on the ceiling. A mattress, a blanket and a pillow on top of it, is lying in the corner of the attic, facing the window.

Flore yawns, only then noticing how tired she is feeling.

She nestles herself on the mattress, the blanket warmly pulled over her. After a last glance through the window, she falls asleep.


	3. More Important

Winston wakes up early in the morning, about an hour before breakfast, like he always does.

Still half sleeping, he trudges towards the fields to start the tasks he has to do every day; getting the animals out of their stables, feeding Bark, sharpening some knives.

He is just filling Bark's bowl with dog food – the black Labrador is standing against his arm, wagging his tail – when he hears a girl's voice behind him.

"Good morning, Winston."

Winston turns around, as far as possible with Bark leaning on his arm, and sees Flore sitting on the windowsill. She is smiling; apparently her bad mood has disappeared a little.

He holds one hand up as a greet.

"Hey," he shouts back. "Slept well?"

"Yeah, great," Flore replies, starting to climb down the ladder. Her straight, red hair waves every time she steps down, and Winston forgets the heavy Labrador next to him for a moment, looking at Flore like he's in a trance.

Bark follows his look, whining quietly, as if he wants to say: _"Do you really think that she's more important than I am?"_

Winston grins and puts the dog's bowl down on the ground. Bark immediately starts to gobble up his food.

Looking up, Winston sees that Flore is standing next to him, looking at the eating dog. He hadn't even noticed that she was so close to him. Her green eyes sparkle brightly in the early sunlight.

It is silent for a while – except for the unappetizing sounds Bark is making – before Flore looks up.

"Can... Can I pet him?" she asks, giggling a little.

Winston's eyebrows shoot up, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, of course," he says. "Go ahead."

He watches her slender hand stroke over the Labrador's black fur.

"Winston?" she asks.

"Yes?"

"Do you know why I've been sent here? Why I can't remember anything?" Flore asks, still not looking him in the eyes.

Winston shakes his head.

"No," he says gloomily. "I don't know anything. You should ask Newt about it."

Flore opens her mouth, probably to ask who Newt is, but Winston cuts her off before she can say anything.

"I need to get Alby to lead you around, before I forget about it," he says, already walking away. He stops when he sees that Flore follows him.

"I think you'd better stay here," he tells her, "Alby might freak out when he sees that there's another girl here. It's better if I explain it to him first."

Flore doesn't seem so happy about it, but then she shrugs and replies: "Okay. I'll stay here with your dog, then."

Winston nods and walks away, towards the Homestead, where Alby usually sleeps. Nearly nobody is awake yet; only the Cooks are busy preparing breakfast for everyone.

Frypan waves at Winston when he walks past the kitchen. Waving back, Winston goes into the Homestead and walks upstairs, towards Alby's room. He walks into the room after politely knocking on the door.

Alby is standing in the middle of the area, with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Winston sighs, relieved that he doesn't have to wake Alby up; the last time someone tried that, Tim ended up having a black eye because Alby had hit him.

"G'mongin'," the dark-skinned boy greets him. He takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Came to ask me something?"

"Eh... Yeah," Winston replies, wondering how he is going to explain the whole situation. "Well... Eh... There is... There's _another_ girl in the Glade."

Alby chokes on his toothpaste, and Winston quickly continues: "I found her last night, lying in the Box. Her memory has been wiped, and, eh... I came to ask you to lead her around."

Alby frowns, and Winston involuntarily notices how incredibly stupid he must have sounded. Then the leader shrugs.

"All right, then," he says.

Winston exhales, relieved. For a small moment, he had thought that Alby was going to yell at him.

"Let's go."

They start to walk towards the Bloodhouse.


	4. Death Glare

It is lunch time when Flore sits down on a picnic table, near the kitchen.

Her head feels heavy; probably because it has been filled with lots of information, she thinks. Alby didn't let her ask any question while he was leading her around, causing her to bite her tongue so hard that it started to bleed at some point. When he was done talking, he had left, so that she still couldn't ask anything.

She feels like the boys here are not very well with girls.

She wonders how they treat that other girl, and where that other girl is; Flore hasn't seen her yet, but you would expect to recognize a girl in a place full of boys, wouldn't you?

A voice pulls her out of her thoughts, making her look up. Winston has sat down on the other side of the table. She hadn't even noticed him.

"Hey," he says. "How did it go?"

Flore rolls her eyes.

"I feel like my head's going to explode, but I still don't know the things I want to know," she says, pouting. "Alby didn't let me ask anything."

Winston shrugs.

"You can ask me, if you want," he says. "Alby isn't the only one who has answers. You could ask anyone here."

He gestures at the other Gladers – that's what they call themselves, Flore has learned – to make his point.

She chuckles.

"All right," she says, already searching in her mind for something she'd like to know.

"Eh..." She taps her fingers on the wooden table. "What's your dog's name?" she asks then.

Winston smiles, as if he likes the thought of his dog.

"That's easy," he replies. "His name's Bark. But don't worry," he adds, "he is actually really quiet. I don't know who came up with that stupid name."

He stretches his arms. "Next question."

Flore frowns, thinking. Her head is filled with things that she wants to know, but it's like she can't find the right words to speak it out.

A movement behind Winston distracts her; a long, blond boy is walking towards the table next to them. He is walking slowly and unstable, as if he is injured, and he looks tired, so incredibly tired. When he sits down, Flore can only see his back.

She points at the boy.

"Who's that?" she asks Winston, who turns around to see the boy. When he looks back at her again, he seems to have paled. Flore wonders what is going on here.

"That's Newt," Winston says, his voice lowered. "He was the boyfriend of the other girl here."

Flore frowns, confused. "What do you mean, 'was'? Did they break up or something?"

The boy behind Winston – Newt – shoots upright.

 _Shit, he has heard me_.

Winston's face grows even whiter, and he shakes his head.

"No, they didn't break up," he says, his voice nearly a whisper, now. "She died."

Flore's mouth drops open, and then she closes it again to swallow difficultly.

A thousand questions and thoughts fly through her head – _"How did she die?" "I want to get out of here! I don't want to die!" "Poor Newt..."_ – but she doesn't get the chance to speak them out, because she sees that Newt stands up.

She bites her tongue, knowing that someone is going to be angry at her if she says another word.

The blond boy slowly walks past her table and gives her a death glare before limping away. His eyes are red-rimmed, Flore notices, like he has been crying all day. Which wouldn't be strange.

Flore looks down at her lunch; toast with peanut butter. It has been standing there the whole time, waiting to be eaten, but she suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore. She pushes her plate away.

A small, bitter voice sounds in her head, along with the sound of a sarcastic applause.

 _Well done, Flore,_ it says. _Nice first impression._

She sighs.

"Well, I've messed that up," she says quietly, while not actually speaking to someone. She feels that someone puts a hand on her shoulder; Winston, probably. She doesn't mind.

"Hey, it's not your fault," he says, on the same whispering tone. "I think he's just having a hard time, you know. Attacked by Grievers, lost his job, girlfriend died... It must be hard to handle that all."

Flore nods, still not looking Winston in the eyes. "Yeah, I understand that."

It is silent for a while, and then someone shouts: "Lunch time's over! Get back to work!"

Immediately, all of the Gladers start to leave.

Flore looks up, to Winston. He is smiling comfortingly at her, but she has the strange feeling that there's something he hasn't told her. His eyes look like they are hiding something. Mentally shrugging, she puts the thought away. It doesn't matter, anyway. If he thought that it would be important for her to know, then he would have told her, wouldn't he?

Winston stands up, lifting his hand off her shoulder.

"I have to go," he says, turning into the direction of the Bloodhouse. "See you at dinner!"

"Bye!" Flore shouts back, though she actually doesn't want him to leave. She doesn't know anyone here, except for him, Alby and Newt, and she doesn't really want to talk with two of those people.

She sighs and watches him walk away, until he eventually goes into the farm and disappears.


	5. Lovebird

Flore spends the hours after that doing small tasks; doing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen, repairing a broken picnic table. She doesn't really mind doing it, though sticking to Tim's side – a friendly, funny Slopper – makes the work a lot lighter.

At the end of the afternoon, there are no tasks left anymore; everything is done, and the Cooks had to start preparing dinner, so they have sent everyone out of the kitchen.

Flore and Tim are sitting with their backs against a tree, at the edge of the Deadheads. Flore's hands are fiddling with a flower, plucking the white leaves off the stem. She doesn't know why she does it, but it seems like an old habit.

The silence lasts for minutes, before Tim's voice splits the air.

"So... you and Winston."

Flore nearly drops her flower in surprise.

"What?"

"Don't act like it's nothing," Tim says, his usual chuckle in his voice. "I can see how you two look at each other. There's something between you, that's obvious."

Flore blushes, though she has no idea of what he is talking about. It's not like she is in love with Winston. Or is it?

"No, Tim," she says, shaking her head. "I think you're wrong. There's nothing between me and Winston. We don't even know each other for a day."

Tim frowns, looking lost in his thoughts for a small moment. Then he grins broadly, that funny, crooked grin that makes Flore want to giggle.

"I guess it's nothing, then," he says. "But I'll be watching you."

He makes his eyes grow huge and lets his face float right in front of her.

"I see _everything_ ," he says, in a voice that would be mysterious if he wouldn't let his tongue hang out of his mouth.

Flore laughs and throws the flower at his face. "Idiot."

"Weirdo."

"Creep."

"Lovebird."

"Shut up!" Flore laughs, pushing him away. "I am _not_ in love with Winston. Or with anyone else."

Tim holds his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"Okay, okay, you win," he says, still grinning. "Lovebird."

Before Flore can throw a handful of grass at him, a new voice interrupts their conversation.

"Don't you have work to do, Tim and Greenie?"

It is a deep, slightly annoyed voice, which Flore immediately recognizes as Alby's.

Tim clears his throat and stands up. He is a lot longer than the dark-skinned leader, though Tim is thinner, less muscular, and his arms and legs are clumsily long. He makes her think of a stick insect. Alby is more like a wants or so.

She stifles a giggle at that thought.

"We're done working," Tim answers Alby's question. "There's nothing to do left."

Alby folds his arms.

"Why don't you guys go stand next to the Doors and look for the Runners to come back into the Glade?" he asks. "The Doors will close in ten minutes, and there still are two Runners out there."

Tim's face pales.

"Who hasn't come back yet?" he asks, obviously worried.

Alby inspects his nails, like he doesn't care at all about everything what is happening.

"George and... eh... what's that guy's name again... John? Joshua?" he mutters, frowning.

Tim's pale skin seems to become even whiter. "Is it Josiah?"

Alby snaps his fingers.

"That's it, that's his name. Anyway, just look for those two," he says, walking away.

Tim looks at him while he strolls towards the Homestead, with a look in his eyes that could make something spontaneously burst into flames. Flore gets to her feet and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"That guy is such an asshole," she says quietly, trying to make it sound as comforting words. Tim doesn't even seem to notice.

He turns to Flore, suddenly looking really desperate. It startles her, and she wishes that she could do something to help.

"Josiah is the best Runner I can think of, besides Minho," Tim says, his voice sounding smaller than she has ever heard. "If he doesn't come back before sunset, something really bad is going on."


	6. Restless

_Three minutes before the Doors close._

Flore can't keep her eyes off Tim's watch. Every time a number changes, she feels like her heart sinks a little more.

Even though she doesn't know any of the two missing Runners, she feels scared and worried.

 _What if they have gotten lost?_

 _What if they have run into a Griever?_

 _What if they are..._

Flore doesn't dare to finish that thought.

She stares into the concrete hallway behind the Doors. It is completely empty, and there's still no sign of Josiah or George.

Tim seems to become more nervous every second; for as far Flore understands, Tim and Josiah are pretty close friends. He doesn't seem to care much about George, though.

 _Two minutes before the Doors close._

The small group of Gladers that has gathered in front of the Doors, seems to become even more restless. Flore's nervous eyes flash over the boys.

Some of them are fidgeting with their sleeves or biting their nails, among who Newt, which surprises her. Others don't show that they are worried, but judging by the tension in their shoulders and the way they pinch their jaws on each other, Flore can see that they feel exactly the same as everyone else there.

 _One minute before the Doors close._

Tim shifts his feet and intertwines his fingers, like he is praying. He presses his thumbs against his forehead.

"Please, make it, please, please, just let him make it..."

The muttered words are barely audible, but they radiate misery.

Flore bites her lower lip to keep herself from screaming. She wants to run into the Maze and find Josiah and George and drag them towards the Glade, even though Alby has made very clear that nobody is allowed to do that.

 _Thirty seconds._

"Come on, come on," Tim mutters, squeezing his eyes shut.

Flore stares into the corridor, as if she can make the missing Runners appear there by only looking. At the moment that the enormous Doors start to rumble – a sign that they are about to close –, someone stumbles into the hallway.

 _One of the missing Runners._

 _Where is the other one?_

The Runner's sweaty brown hair is sticking to his forehead, and his face is burning red. He looks utterly exhausted, as if he is on the edge of breaking down.

Flore elbows Tim, who looks up from his quiet praying.

"Look," she says to him, pointing at the Runner.

The Slopper's face twists in horror.

"Josiah!" he yells.

The Runner – Josiah, apparently – looks up and takes another step forward.

That is when Flore realizes that something is wrong.

Apart from the fact that Josiah looks like he can pass out of exhaustion every moment, there is an alarmingly large red stain on his shirt. His hands are pressed against his left side.

The Doors start to creak, and, to Flore's horror, slowly start to shut.

Josiah seems to notice that, too, because he pinches his jaws on each other and starts to run. His face twists in pain with every step, but he still moves quite fast.

He is nearly halfway when he trips over something and falls.

A gasp goes through the group.

 _Why does nobody do something?_ Flore wonders helplessly, though she knows the answer very well. _Because they are scared. Scared for punishment, scared to get stuck out there. Just scared._

 _All of them._

"Come on, Josiah!" Tim yells. "You can do it!"

The injured Runner struggles to his feet, but his legs can't hold him, and he falls on his knees. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain.

There is only half a metre between the two closing Doors. The realization hits Flore hard; he is never going to make it. He will get stuck in the Maze, and he will die.

Then, suddenly, the time seems to slow down.

Tim stops shouting. He looks into the concrete corridor, and the way he does that, tells Flore that he is about to go in there. She shakes her head, but Tim dives forward, into the Maze. She would swear that he shouts "Shuck the rules!", but she isn't sure about it.

Feeling like her feet are superglued to the floor, Flore watches how Tim lifts Josiah up and starts to drag him towards the Glade. The Doors slide closer to each other every second.

 _Forty centimetres between them._

 _Thirty centimetres._

 _Twenty._

Tim slips through the small space between the Doors, pushing Josiah forward. At the moment that the two Gladers are standing on the grass again, the Doors slam shut behind them.

Gasping for air and completely out of breath, Josiah leans against the concrete wall. Everyone is too startled to move; they all just stand there, staring at the exhausted Runner.

He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his hands against the wound in his side. While everyone is listening, four unexpected words come out of his mouth.

"I have... killed... George..."

Then his legs collapse and he falls to the ground.

 **Guys, you can never guess how much I loved writing this chapter! I L-O-V-E-D it! And that's the reason why I updated earlier than usually. I think I kinda like Josiah as a character (yes, I know he's an OC, but he's a cool guy), and I found that his minor role in Dark Days too small was. He's too cool for that. So I decided to give him a role in this story! Yay! (Does anyone like him, by the way, or do you think that he's stupid?)**

 **So, anyway, I'm gonna stop talking now, 'cause I think that you guys find it quite annoying, so... Bye!**

 **PS: Don't be scared to leave a review, guys! I like to know what you think of my story, good or bad!**


	7. Shirtless

Tim is leaning against the wall, somewhere in the Homestead. He is staring at the door in front of him, across the narrow hallway.

Behind that door, his best friend is lying on a bed, maybe still unconscious, maybe biting his lip to not scream while Clint is giving him stitches.

The Med-Jack has sent everyone out of the room. Most of the boys left after that, but Tim stayed. He can't just leave while Josiah is in there; he knows that he'll feel guilty and come back, anyway.

The sound of an opening door pulls him out of his thoughts. Clint walks out of the room. He frowns when he sees Tim, as if he is surprised that he is still there, but then he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the door.

"You can go in," the Med-Jack says to him. "I'm done."

With that, he walks away, probably to someone else who needs his help.

Tim holds the doorknob in his hand, suddenly uncertain.

What if Josiah doesn't want him there?

What if he just wants to be alone?

Tim shakes his head, trying to give himself a little pep talk.

 _Of course Josiah won't mind some company,_ he tells himself.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the room, but as soon as he has stepped over the doorstep, he stops. He doesn't know what he expected, but he certainly didn't expect _this_.

Josiah is lying on top of the white blanket, his eyes closed – apparently, he's still unconscious. But that's not what makes Tim want to cover his eyes and stare at the same time.

Josiah is _shirtless_.

Tim quickly looks away before he starts to stare at his best friend, but not fast enough to prevent his eyes from catching a glimpse of tanned skin and hard muscle.

 _Now, that's awkward._

Tim tries to walk through the room with his back turned to Josiah, but when an amused voice sounds behind him, he spins around.

"Tim," Josiah says, "what the heck are you doing?"

Tim looks away, not only because his friend seems to be totally cool with the fact that he is only wearing a pair of khaki shorts.

"Eh..."

Josiah raises his eyebrows.

"Well?"

"Eh..."

Tim feels his cheeks grow red; he can't find the right words to explain that he wanted to prevent himself from staring without embarrassing himself.

Then, completely unexpected, Josiah starts to laugh, making Tim look up.

"You're a crazy shank, dude," he says, shaking his head. "You also could've just _asked_ me to put on a shirt."

Tim blushes even more, but he grins.

"Yes, I could've done that," he admits, happy that his best friend has saved him out of this awkward situation.

Josiah chuckles, reaching for the white shirt that is lying on the nightstand, but pulling back with a low hiss.

"Hey, you all right?" Tim asks him, remembering the cut he had gotten in his side. It must hurt.

Josiah nods, the pain already disappearing from his face.

"Yeah, fine," he replies. "I just don't think that I have to move too much."

Tim shrugs, walks towards the nightstand and tosses the shirt at his friend. Josiah nods thankfully and starts to put the shirt on.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tim asks: "So... what did actually happen, out there in the Maze?"

Josiah tugs the shirt over his head, tousling his dark brown hair.

"Well, George and I were mapping Section Five. I usually run with Newt, but he can't be a Runner anymore, because he got hurt and everything, so George took over his job."

The boy's dark eyes are fixed on some non-existing place on the wall, as if he is in some kind of trance. His hands go on rolling up his long sleeves, the way he always does.

"We were just heading back to the Glade when George pulled a knife out of his harness. He pushed me against the wall and put the knife against my throat, growling something about 'getting rid of the faint-hearted shucks'. I kicked the knife out of his hand, and he went totally nuts. Started to hit me."

Josiah's fingers absently touch a bruise on his wrist; Tim hadn't even noticed that before.

"I pulled out my bow and arrow, and George picked up the knife. His face was red and insane-looking by then. I hesitated. Which I shouldn't have done."

Josiah closes his eyes, frowning.

"George threw the knife at the same moment that I let go of the bow's string. The arrow hit him earlier than the knife hit me, but I was too slow to move out of its way. Let's say that I'm a lucky shank; it didn't hit something important, but the blood loss would've been fatal if you hadn't saved me in time."

Josiah opens his eyes, looking into Tim's face, which must look ridiculous. He had been listening with open mouth and breathlessly, so as soon as he closes his mouth, he immediately gets a coughing fit.

"You're welcome," he says, trying not to choke. "It was nothing."

Josiah opens his mouth, probably to say that it isn't nothing to save someone's life, but then he shrugs and says: "Okay, whatever. I'm just glad that I'm still alive."

He is sounding a bit absently; Tim can tell that his friend is getting tired and is starting to lose his focus on the conversation. He stands up.

"I guess I'll go," he says, though he feels something of pain in his chest at the thought of leaving – he doesn't want to go away.

Then something unexpected happens.

"No!" Josiah shouts, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth as soon as the word has left it. "I mean, eh... stay, please."

Tim raises his eyebrows, surprised at what Josiah said. He wants to responds something, but then he hears Frypan's loud voice echo over the Glade.

"Dinner!" the Cook yells, letting the Gladers know that dinner is ready.

Josiah sits back against the pillows behind his back, a slight look of disappointment on his face.

"I'll come back after dinner," Tim promises him. Josiah's face brightens up, and he replies: "Okay. See you."

Tim nods and walks away, knowing that he is going to have a really nice evening.

 **Oh, how I enjoyed writing this chapter! Don't you guys think that it's awkward to walk into a room and see your best friend, unconscious and shirtless? :) That'd be so weird!**

 **Bye guys, have a nice day!**


	8. Grumpy

"Hey, Winston."

Flore sits down next to Winston, on a picnic table.

"Hey," he greets her back. It is silent for a while.

Flore's hands are trembling, and though she tries to hide it, Winston still notices it.

"What's wrong?" he asks, curious but worried. What happened to her?

The redheaded girl shifts on her spot.

"Someone just nearly died," she says quietly.

Winston's eyebrows shoot up.

"Who?" he asks, startled. Of course he knew that something was going on – he could see the tense group standing near the Doors – but he didn't know what exactly was going on.

"A guy named Josiah," she says, still on the same quiet tone. "He nearly got stuck in the Maze. He was injured, and Tim could save him just in time."

"Tim? The Slopper?" Winston asks, surprised. He didn't expect the clumsy Slopper to save someone's life.

Flore nods. "They're both in the Homestead, now. I think that I'm going to go to them. I don't think that I can fall asleep tonight, if I don't know that they're all right."

The anxiety in her voice surprises Winston. Why is she so worried? She knows those boys for only a couple of hours, probably even less.

Without thinking, he lays a hand on her shoulder, just like he had done that afternoon. Small streams of electricity shoot through his hand where he touches her.

"Hey," he says softly. "It'll be all right. Josiah is one of the best survivors we've got here. He won't die that easily, believe me."

Flore nods absently and pricks in her food with her fork. She looks anything but hungry, and that thought gets confirmed when she pushes her plate to the side.

"I'm not hungry," she says, but Winston puts the untouched plate back in front of her.

"Listen, we've all had a hell of a first day," he says, sounding stricter than he had meant to. "But not eating is not the solution. It's only a matter of time before you pass out of hunger, and we don't want that, do we?"

He sees Flore hesitate, and he piles it up a little more: "I'm going to feed you if you don't do it yourself."

She smiles at that, a small, careful smile, and she picks up her fork and puts a potato in her mouth.

"Well done. Good girl," Winston says, as if she is a young child. She wrinkles her nose, a sarcastic _'ha-ha-ha-now-that's-funny'_ -face.

Winston watches her as her plate grows emptier and emptier, until there's nothing left to eat, anymore. By that time, she is looking a lot happier, showing him that his advice has worked. She grins at him.

"How did you know that?" she asks him. "I mean, that eating helps."

Winston shrugs. "I don't know," he replies. "But it's a fact. People get grumpy and sad when they're hungry."

"I'll have to remember that," Flore mutters, looking like she is making a mental note. Then she stands up, putting her hair behind her ears.

"I'm going to Josiah," she says. "Just to see if he's all right. Are you coming with me?"

Winston shakes his head, already shivering at the thought of just walking into a room and start talking to someone – he wouldn't know what to say. Besides, he and Josiah don't get along so well. Actually, he doesn't get along so well with everyone here.

"No, eh..." he says to Flore, thinking up an excuse to not go with her. "There's some work I've got to do."

 _You're a wimp, Winston,_ a small voice in his head whispers.

Flore shrugs. "Okay. See you later, then."

She turns around, but before she has even walked away, Winston has already run off.

 _You're a wimp, Winston._

 _You're an incredibly stupid wimp_.

 **Thanks to this lovely Guest CheetahGirl9X9 for reading AND reviewing all of my stories! Girl, you're amazing :) but I couldn't send you a message to thank you, so I'll just do it this way: Thanks so much!**


	9. Privacy

Josiah looks up when he hears that the door opens. He had been fidgeting with the sleeves of his white shirt – _Rolled up or not? Rolled up or not?_ – and he has ended up having one rolled up sleeve and one not-rolled up sleeve. He quickly rolls that other sleeve up, too, because it would look ridiculous if he wouldn't do that.

With a "Hey, Tim" already ready for use, he watches the person step into the room... only to discover that it isn't Tim.

It's a girl, the Greenie.

He doesn't remember her name, but he surely has heard about her. The whole Glade had been surprised and confused; why sending up another girl? How is that useful?

He doesn't know, and he actually doesn't care. Boys or girls, no difference. As long as they act nicely.

He swallows the _"Tim"_ in _"Hey, Tim"_ and greets the girl with a friendly "Hey."

"Hey," the girl replies, smiling. She seems to think a moment before she asks: "You're Josiah, right?"

Josiah nods, surprised that she knows his name; she has only been there for a day, and he doesn't think that they have seen each other yet.

"Yep. And your name is..?" he asks, letting his voice trail off so that she can fill it in herself.

"Flore," the girl says, tucking a curl behind her ear. "So, eh... I-I just came to see if you're all right."

That surprises Josiah, and he is silent for a moment before he finds his voice again. Why would she be interested in how he feels?

"Eh, yeah, I'm fine," he says, stuttering a little and hating himself for it. "I'm alive, I'm breathing, I don't have much pain, so I'm actually feeling fine."

That third thing isn't true. Of course he has pain – it would be crazy if that wasn't the case, for he has been stabbed in the side and nearly died of the blood loss –, he can just handle it much better than most of the other Gladers.

"Oh," Flore says, seeming unsure what to say. "Okay."

It is awkwardly silent for a while, and then the door behind her opens.

Tim steps into the room, making something of happiness jump up inside Josiah's chest.

"Hey, Josiah," Tim greets him, cheerful as always. "I am... Oh."

It is then that he realizes that Flore is there, too, and the look on his face is so funny that Josiah has to bite his lip to not laugh.

"Hi, Flore," Tim says to her, his head turning the colour of a ripe tomato.

The girl folds her arms, her eyes flicking from Josiah to Tim and back. An amused smile spreads over her lips, though Josiah doesn't understand what is so funny here.

"I think that I should go," she says, putting her hands in her pockets. "You guys surely need some privacy."

With that, she walks out of the room, leaving Josiah frowning and Tim with a possibly even redder face.

"What was that about?" Josiah wonders out loud.

Tim shrugs. "I don't know. And I'm not sure if I even want to know."

He sits down on the edge of the bed, and while they both try to stop snickering, he asks with the usual humour in his voice: "So, how about a game of tic-tac-toe?"


	10. The Bright Side

Two hours later, Flore is lying on her mattress, in the attic of the farm. Winston had apologized for not getting her a sleeping bag, but she told him that he didn't mind sleeping here, and that he didn't have to get her a sleeping bag. They had wished each other goodnight and had gone to sleep.

Flore pulls her knees up to her chest, nestling herself on the comfortable mattress.

She has survived her first day in the Glade, and it was exactly the way Winston had said it: a hell of a first day.

She has heard about people dying in the Maze and nearly witnessed it with her own eyes.

She has made a _fantastic_ – that is a sarcastic thought – first impression on Newt, and maybe Josiah, too.

But, at that moment, she learns something about herself; she is Flore, and she is used to looking on the bright side of things.

 _Come on, Flore,_ a little voice inside her head says. _It wasn't that bad, was it?_

She smiles.

Of course it wasn't that bad. She has learned a lot today, thanks to Alby – even though he probably wanted to do something else than leading her around.

She has talked a lot to Winston and Tim, making her think that maybe, even after only one day, she has made some new friends.

It is a good start.

Yawning, she closes her eyes.

 _Maybe, when I've gotten used to being here,_ she thinks, _this place won't be so bad after all._

* * *

 _Her dream begins with a woman and a young girl, facing each other as they sit around a table._

 _The girl has red hair in a ponytail – Flore realizes that it must be herself, a couple of years younger. This must be a memory._

 _Her ten-years-old self looks at the woman, and Flore involuntarily follows her look._

 _The woman's grey-blond hair is tied back in a tight chignon at the back of her head. It looks like it pulls her face flat; Flore can't see any wrinkles, though she knows that the woman is fifty years old. The woman's face is so fascinating that Flore only realizes that the woman has said something when her thin lips move._

 _"Did you hear me, Florilene?" she asks._

Wait. Florilene? That's not my name, _Flore thinks, but she doesn't say anything._

 _The younger Flore – Florilene? – nods._

 _"Yes, Miss Paige," she says politely, her voice even higher than it is now. "I did hear you. You said that I had to listen closely, because this'll be shown to my older self when my memory has been wiped."_

 _Flore frowns._

That's just weird.

 _The woman – Miss Paige, as Florilene had called her – nods._

 _"That is right, Florilene," she says. "You will get a couple of missions, when you are fourteen years old, in the Maze. You will have to fulfil them."_

 _"And what if I don't?" Florilene asks, her hands fidgeting at the sleeves of her shirt._

 _Miss Paige smiles, as if she expected her to ask that question._

 _"Then we will make something bad happen to you, or to someone you love."_

 _That sentence scares Flore._ "Then we will make something bad happen to you, or to someone you love." _She doesn't know who 'we' is, but she feels like she doesn't want to know that._

 _Florilene looks down, and Flore feels a sting of pity for the younger girl, even though she knows that she is looking at herself._

 _"Okay," the younger girl says, quieter than first. "What is the first mission I'll have to fulfil?"_

 _Miss Paige smiles._

 _"We will start with an easy one," she says, and Flore feels like she has to pay even more attention, now. "Your first mission is to become a Slicer. You will have to be good with a knife if you want to fulfill all missions."_

 _Flore wonders what that's supposed to mean, but the dream already starts to fade, and it doesn't take long before black sleep takes over her mind._


	11. Chop A Chicken's Head Off

"Winston, I want to become a Slicer."

Winston spins around as he hears Flore's voice behind him.

His eyebrows shoot up.

"Well, good morning, too," he replies drily. "Are you sure about that? I don't think it's a job that fits you."

"What do you mean?" the redheaded girl asks, nearly sounding insulted.

Winston shrugs. "I just don't think that you're someone who could chop a chicken's head off or something."

That isn't the truth. He doesn't want her to be a Slicer because it is quite a dangerous job – the thin, white scars on his lower arms are the prove of that. He doesn't want her to get hurt.

Flore frowns at him, looking offended and something else... desperate? Even scared maybe? Why?

The thought gets cut off when Flore says: "Well, at least give me a chance to prove that I can be a Slicer. I don't think that you know how good I am with a knife."

Winston nearly laughs at that – he doesn't believe that the small, weak-looking girl can use a knife – but he holds back.

"All right, then," he says after a moment of silence. "I'll give you a knife and then you can show what you can do with it."

Quietly chuckling, he walks towards the farm.

 _This is gonna be fun._

"All right. Show me what you've got."

Winston is standing in the corner of the poultry house, his hands in his pockets. Flore is standing in the middle of the small shed, a short knife in her right hand.

The chickens seem to be completely cool with the fact that there's an armed girl in their shed, and they calmly go on eating their food.

Winston watches Flore as she turns the blade between her fingers. He silently prays that it won't cut her.

"Come on," he says, gesturing at the winged animals. "Go ahead. We don't have all day."

He doesn't know where his impatient behaviour comes from. Maybe it's because he wants to see what she is going to do, because a small part of him secretly believes in her.

Flore glances at him, shifts her feet and draws the weapon back. Before Winston even realizes what is happening, the knife flies through the air and pins a chicken against the wall.

The metal is sticking right in the small bird's neck; the animal is dead.

Winston whistles, secretly a little impressed.

Flore puts her arms in her sides.

"Who said that I couldn't chop a chicken's head off?" she asks him, a proud grin playing on her lips.

Winston grins back.

"Well, I take that back," he says. "Congratulations, Flore. You're a Slicer."

Flore happily dances in place at that last sentence.

"Yay!" she loudly exclaims.

Then, suddenly, she wraps her arms around Winston's neck.

Too startled to do anything, the Slicer just stands there, even stiller than a statue, until she pulls back. She is blushing, and her head is as red as her hair.

It is silent for a moment as they look at each other, before Winston finds his voice again.

"Eh..." He clears his throat. "You'd better get dressed. The work starts in a couple of minutes. The Slicers' clothes are in the back of the farm." He points at the wooden back door. "I'll go feed Bark and then I'll lead you around."

Flore nods, already walking towards the farm.

"Okay. See you soon," she says before turning around.

Shaking his head, Winston watches her walk away, too fascinated by the way her hair bounces with every step to move.

 _She's a weird girl,_ he thinks as she walks into the farm.

He pulls the knife out of the wall, making the dead chicken fall on the ground. Grinning, the Slicer throws the blood-covered blade up and catches it again.

 _But I like her._


	12. The Curse of Nick's Knife

Flore is smiling uncontrollably while putting on the Slicers' clothes; an old-school white apron, simple black pants and a pair of black boots.

Maybe she shouldn't have hugged Winston – he didn't really seem to like it – but she is feeling so happy that she doesn't care. Happy and relieved.

She has fulfilled her mission to become a Slicer, so now nothing bad is going to happen to her or to someone she loves. She doesn't know who those 'loved ones' are, though. Perhaps Miss Paige meant Flore's parents or something, even though she doesn't even remember them. Anyway, she doesn't want that someone's life is being risked if she doesn't succeed in doing her missions – 'missions' in its plural form, because that woman had said that it'll be more of them.

Flore doesn't even want to know what those other missions are, for Miss Paige said that this was an 'easy one'. If this is easy, then what is hard?

She quickly puts the thoughts out of her head, telling herself that she has to focus now, and throws her short hair into a ponytail.

When she walks out of the door, she sees that Winston is waiting for her outside. He smiles at her before gesturing that she has to follow him.

When they emerge from behind the farm, Winston starts to show her where all animals are.

"Over there," he says, pointing a small shed on their left, at the edge of the Deadheads, "is the poultry house. The cows' stable is right behind it."

He points at two stalls in the corner of the East Wall and the Gardens, each surrounded by fences.

"There are the pigs and the sheep," he explains, turning around to walk into the farm.

Inside the small house, it is, well, a lot cosier than Flore expected. She expected lots of blood and black stuff and darkness, which doesn't appear to be right. This place is quite big, and clean. Slicers are walking around in small groups, cheerfully talking to each other. They are all wearing the same outfit as Flore.

She feels a smile pulling at her lips; this is the job she has to do. She can feel it in her blood, and in her bones, and in the rest of her body.

She gets pulled out of her thoughts by a brown-haired Slicer, who walks over to her and Winston, broadly grinning.

"Hey, Winston," he friendly greets the Keeper.

"Hey, Jack," Winston replies.

The other Slicer – Jack – seems to notice Flore only then.

"Who do we've got here?" he asks, bending down to Flore; he is much longer than she is. "Are you sure you want to make this one a Slicer, Winston? She looks more like a tiny Med-Jack or something."

Flore feels that she is blushing of embarrassment and anger, and she is on the edge of slapping the rude Slicer when Winston intervenes.

"Jack, please, don't underestimate her," he says. "She has just pinned a chicken on the wall by throwing a knife from five metres. I know what I'm doing."

Jack nods, but Flore can't really see whether he is impressed or just making fun of her.

"All right, if you say so," he says, standing up. "We'll see what you've got, little one."

Then he walks away.

Winston looks Flore in the eyes.

"Don't mind him," he says. "Jack can be a bit arrogant sometimes, but he's a good guy."

Flore nods.

"All right," she says, suddenly feeling quite enthusiastic. "So, when do we start?"

Winston laughs.

"You're a real business woman, aren't you?" he asks, snickering. "The real work starts after breakfast, in half an hour. Before that time, we usually make some preparations."

He points at a red-painted door in the back of the hall. "Perhaps we should get you a knife."

Flore grins, nodding. "Okay."

They walk through the door, into a smaller room. The walls are filled with knives in all different sizes, and ropes, and some kind of collars.

Winston takes a blade off the wall. It is about as long as Flore's lower arm, and razor-sharp.

"I think that this is about your size," he says, giving the knife to her.

It is heavier than she expected, but not really heavy.

"Yeah, I think that this is all right," she says, spinning the weapon around in one hand.

An elegant _'N'_ is carved into the clean metal, just above the hilt.

"Why is that written there?" she asks Winston, pointing at the letter.

The corner of the Slicer's mouth twitches a little, as if he isn't sure if he is going to tell it or not.

"This knife used to be Nick's," he says, quieter than first.

Flore frowns; she hasn't heard that name before.

"Was he a Slicer, too?" she asks.

Winston shakes his head. "No. He was our leader before Alby. Passed away a while ago, while trying to escape." He frowns. "You can keep the knife, though. It wouldn't make sense if it would just stay here, hanging on the wall forever. No one here dares to use it; they think that it's cursed or something."

"Do you think that, too?" Flore asks, feeling that she pales. What if the weapon is really cursed?

Winston shakes his head again, smiling a little.

"No. I think that it's just an excuse to not use that knife, because they don't want to cry out loud when they think of someone who died. It just makes them think of the leader they lost, and they don't want to use it because they don't want to be constantly sad. But you never met Nick, so you can't be sad about it, right?"

Flore nods, half lost in her thoughts.

 _That was surprisingly... deep,_ she thinks. _I didn't expect that._

Winston walks out of the small room.

"Come on," he says, gesturing that she has to follow him. "We need to feed the animals."

Flore goes after him, smiling; she is already feeling like today.


	13. Clumsy

Tim yawns as he strolls through the Homestead, towards Josiah's room. He has only just woken up, about twenty minutes before breakfast, but he has already put on his usual clothes and everything.

That night, he had been puzzling over what Flore had said.

 _"You guys surely need some privacy."_

Maybe she doesn't know anything and was it just a clumsy choice of words. But maybe the redheaded girl has figured out something.

A sting of fear and helplessness appears in Tim's heart.

What if she knows what is going on here?

What if she knows that Tim has been in love with his best friend for years?

He lets out his breath in a small puff.

 _Calm down, Tim,_ he says to himself. _You and Josiah have been friends for nearly two years, and nobody has ever noticed something._

 _Even Josiah himself doesn't know anything._

 _If nobody knows anything, then why would Flore notice?_

Tim closes his eyes for a moment.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

 _It'll be all right._

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by nearly crashing into someone.

His eyes fly open and he looks right into Clint's face. The Med-Jack gives him a puzzled look.

"What were you doing?" he asks.

Tim clears his throat.

"Eh... Nothing," he replies, knowing that his ears have coloured a bright red.

Clint frowns, but shrugs then.

"If you say so," he says, already walking away.

"Clint, wait!" Tim calls him back, making the older Med-Jack turn around.

"Yes?"

"How is Josiah doing?"

The question has left Tim's mouth before he can stop it.

Clint snorts.

"He's stubborn," he says, a slight look of dislike on his face. "He doesn't want to take the painkiller. Says that he can handle pain by himself."

A small smile pulls on Tim's lips.

That sounds typically like Josiah. Only he would say something like that.

"Oh, and before I forget about it," Clint says, turning around for the second time, "there's a Gathering, tonight, right after the Doors close. We need to determine a punishment for you and Josiah. You two have to come."

Tim nods, though he is already feeling a knot in his stomach.

 _Wow, now that's a fair reason to hold a Gathering. A punishment for saving your best friend's life, and a punishment for trying not to get killed by someone._

"Okay," he says to Clint. "Thanks for telling me that."

"You're welcome," the Med-Jack friendly replies before walking away.

Sighing, Tim continues walking towards Josiah's room. He really doesn't feel like tonight.

 **WHAM!**

 **Did you expect Tim to be in love with Josiah? Did you? Did you?**

 **(Gosh, I'm writing so much over the past couple of days, it's not even funny.)**

 **PS: DOUBLE UPDATE!**


	14. Rulebreakers

"I hereby open this Gathering, about a punishment for Josiah of the Runners, who has killed George, also of the Runners, and Tim of the Sloppers, who went into the Maze while he was fully aware of the consequences."

Alby looks at the two boys, who are sitting on two chairs in front of the half circle of Keepers.

Tim is blushing, his face and ears turning bright red, and Josiah is just looking annoyed, and angry.

Winston can't blame him; he is sure he would be annoyed, too, if he would get injured, and would be punished for defending himself. He also finds it ridiculous to force an injured Glader to join a Gathering. That is what has happened to as well Josiah as Newt.

He wishes that Flore was there. She would be able to find the right words to talk Tim and Josiah to freedom. Winston has never been so well with words; he always chooses the wrong ones and, one way or another, he always manages to make it seem like he wants the worst punishment possible.

His mind wanders back to last Gathering, but he quickly puts the thoughts away.

 _Don't think about what you've said to Lauren,_ a strict voice in his head commands. _Not now._

He focuses on Alby again, who gestures at the two 'rulebreakers', as the leader calls it himself.

"Tell us your part of what happened," he says, his deep voice rumbling through the entire council room.

"Eh... Well..." Tim begins, but Josiah cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll just start, all right?" he asks his friend.

Tim nods, his face turning even redder.

Winston watches the boys with raised eyebrows, wondering what the heck is going on here. Perhaps that's just how best friends treat each other.

He listens carefully as Josiah starts to talk, knowing that he is going to have to say something about it later on.

"I was running, with George, just doing our job," the Runner tells. His voice sounds irritated. "We had just turned around to go back to the Glade when George grabbed his knife. He put it against my throat, forcing me to go stand against the wall. He said something, that he wanted to 'get rid of the faint-hearted shucks'."

Nearly all of the Keepers pale at that, and Winston knows exactly why.

A couple of weeks ago, Gally got stung by a Griever. He went totally crazy, and convinced his friends – Billy, George and that month's Greenie, Victor – to 'get rid of the faint-hearted shucks'. They were the only people to ever use that term. The four of them had attacked Newt, and they surely would have killed him if Nick, Alby and Minho hadn't intervened in time.

It's still a bit of a sensitive topic.

"I kicked the knife out of his hand," Josiah continues, "and he started to hit me. He went totally crazy, and I knew that he was going to kill me, so I pulled out my bow and arrow, and George picked up the knife. That was when I killed him. I would've been dead instead of him, if I hadn't done that."

Gally opens his mouth to say something, but Alby gestures that he has to shut up.

"I've run all the way back, from the outer sections of Section Five to the Glade. I would've bled to death if Tim hadn't saved me in time."

Tim clears his throat, taking over the talking.

"Josiah had just reached the last corridor to the Glade," he says. "The Doors already started to close, and I knew that he wasn't going to make it, and then he fell, and I knew that he wasn't going to make it, and nobody did something, so I just did what I had to do and saved a fellow Glader and my best friend."

The Slopper's kind face is twisted in a tense frown; Winston can tell that he doesn't think that this is fair.

It isn't fair to punish someone for saving his friend's life.

"Well," Zart points out, "I have heard very clearly that you said 'Shuck the rules!' when you went into the Maze, Tim."

Tim pinches his jaws on each other, but looks down. "That's right, yeah."

"All right," Alby suddenly shouts, out of the blue. "This has already been taking too long, and I'm hungry. Let's just say three days and nights in the Slammer, only water and bread. Starting from tomorrow. Gathering closed."

The leader stands up and starts to walk away.

"But..." Gally and Billy sputter at the same moment. "What about George? Josiah killed him!"

"I said: Gathering _closed,_ " Alby snaps at them. "Nobody cares about George."

He walks away and slams the door shut behind him. Winston looks around in the room.

Billy and Gally are still standing in the middle of the room, their mouths opened as if they still want to argue with Alby. Josiah and Tim just look really satisfied with their light punishment, though they do their best to hide it.

Gally growls and points at Josiah with a big index finger.

"This isn't over yet," he yells furiously. "We're going to find a way to take revenge for killing George, and believe me, it's going to be really bloody!"

Then he stalks out of the room, Billy following closely.

Frypan stands up.

"I think Alby is right," he says, lazily stretching his arms. "I'm hungry as hell. Let's get out of here."

Approvingly nodding, the Gladers follow him out of the council room. Only Tim and Josiah stay behind, whispering to each other.

Winston wonders what they are talking about, but his growling stomach and the urge to tell this to Flore wins from his curiosity, so he leaves the two boys behind and starts to make his way towards the picnic tables.


	15. No Enemies

That evening, when the sun has already gone down, Flore is sitting against a tree, at the edge of the Deadheads.

She is feeling heated; Winston has told her that Josiah and Tim are going to be punished. She had almost choked on her chicken wings – the chicken wings from the chickens _she_ had killed – and only her manners had kept her from marching right towards Alby and starting to yell at him.

She is happy, though, that the two boys didn't get a heavier punishment. Three days and nights in the Slammer can't be that bad.

She yawns, stretching her arms. Her job as a Slicer is great, but it is extremely tiring.

 _I should be going to bed,_ she thinks, but the exhaustion takes over her mind and makes her fall asleep, right then, right there, with her back against a tree.

* * *

 _In her dream, she sees the two people again – Florilene, the younger version of Flore, and Miss Paige, the serious-looking woman with the tight face._

 _"Pay attention, Florilene," Miss Paige says, her strict voice breaking the silence. "Your second mission is going to be a little harder than the first one, though I do not think that it will be impossible for you."_

 _There is a silence again; Flore can feel that the woman wants Florilene to ask something._

 _"What is that mission, Miss Paige?" the younger girl asks then, her high-pitched voice shaking a little. She sounds scared._

 _Miss Paige nods, her thin lips bowing in to an approving smile._

 _"Your second mission is to make sure all the Gladers like you," she says. "No enemies. They need to trust you, that will make your last mission a better Variable."_

 _Flore doesn't know what a Variable is, or why making friends will help that._

 _She also doesn't know what her 'last mission' is, but she can feel a sting of fear at that, though she doesn't know why._

 _Florilene says something to Miss Paige, but her words are lost in the darkness as the dream fades._

* * *

Flore wakes up lying under a warm blanket, curled up against a tree trunk. She has a slight feeling that Winston has put that blanket over her, but of course, she can't be sure.

She rubs the grass out of her hair, yawning and blinking against the bright sunlight. That night's dream is still fresh in her memory, but the actual meaning of it hits her only now.

 _"Make sure all the Gladers like you. No enemies."_

Moaning quietly, she squeezes her eyes shut.

 _This is going to be harder than I thought. Good thing that I don't have made much enemies._

When she realizes something else, she moans even louder, mentally cursing.

 _I have to get Newt to like me._

 _Shit._


	16. Newt's Story

Flore sees her chance that afternoon, when she and Winston walk towards their picnic table to have lunch.

Newt is sitting alone, on a picnic table right next to the Deadheads. Flore feels a sting of pity for the blond boy, and she feels an urge to talk to him that has nothing to do with her mission.

She turns to Winston.

"I'm going to sit with Newt," she says, knowing that she sounds really rude right now. "Alone."

Winston frowns.

"What... Why?" he asks, sounding confused.

"I've been having weird dreams," Flore blurts out, before she can stop herself. "Some woman told me that I have to fulfil missions, or something bad will happen to me or to my friends. Yesterday's mission was to become a Slicer, and today's mission is to make sure I don't have any enemies."

She spins around before Winston can say anything, but before walking away, she quietly says: "I'm sorry, Winston. I promise that this is the only time you have to sit without me."

She doesn't even know if he has heard her, but she leaves him standing there, hoping that he won't sit alone somewhere.

Biting her lip, she tries to focus on making friends, now. The heavy nervousness in her stomach grows with every step she takes towards Newt, but she knows that she has to do this.

She probably only has one chance.

Swallowing difficultly, she puts her hands in her pockets and tries to look nonchalant, though she is probably failing miserably.

"Hi, Newt," she says, trying to sound cheerfully. "Mind if I sit here?"

The boy doesn't reply, but he moves to the side to make space for her to sit.

Her lungs feel like they are filled with cement as she sits down next to him.

"So," she tries, "nice weather, isn't it?"

"The weather is always nice here," Newt snaps. "Didn't notice that it never rains here, did you?"

 _Shit_.

"I-I'm sorry," Flore stutters, not knowing what else to do. Then she decides to take a great risk. "You know, I just want to talk. Can't you tell me why you're acting like that to me? Wh-What have I done wrong?"

She knows very well what she has done wrong. She was talking about that other girl, his girlfriend, who died, and she made a mistake by doing that, but it wasn't that bad, was it? Everyone makes mistakes.

For one frightening moment, it is completely silent. Then Newt asks something totally unexpected.

"Are you sure you want to hear the whole story?"

Flore freezes in place at the question, only able to stare.

She didn't expect this to happen.

She expected him to snap at her again, tell her to leave.

"Eh... Well, why not?" she replies, trying to hide her surprise.

Newt carefully smiles. It looks more like a grimace, but it is enough to make Flore freeze again.

"It all started, like, three weeks ago," he begins. His voice sounds hoarse, as if he hasn't talked to anyone in days. "Gally, George, Billy and that month's Greenie attacked me, for no reason. Gally had been stung, and he and his friends had knives. They started to stab me."

Flore catches a glimpse of white bandage under his vest, and she makes a mental note to stay away from Gally, Billy and the Greenie, whoever that may be.

She listens as Newt goes on.

"I'm quite sure that I would've been dead if Alby, Minho and Nick hadn't stopped them in time, but that wasn't even the worst. George was my friend – or so I thought – and he had just tried to kill me. I didn't dare to trust anyone, anymore. The second horrible thing happened the day after that. Nick tried to escape, through the Box hole, and got cut in two."

Newt's voice breaks, and Flore feels that her heart gets filled with pity. He doesn't deserve all this.

Nobody does.

"He was like a brother to me, to all of us. We all tried to forget him by working extra hard, but nobody could sleep, and the mix of those two things takes its toll really fast."

Newt swallows difficultly, as if he is in pain – which wouldn't be strange – and Flore wonders how it is possible that he has changed from a snappy boy into someone who is sharing his misery with a girl he barely knows. It seems impossible.

"It went wrong two days after Nick's death. I was doing my job as a Runner when I ran into a Griever. I fled, fell over something and broke my ankle. It was fifteen minutes before the Doors would close, and I couldn't walk."

 _Ah,_ Flore thinks. _So that's why he limps._

Newt looks down at his lunch, an untouched egg. He looks the way most people look when they are lying, but Flore doesn't believe that he is lying.

Why would he lie about something like this?

"How did you survive?" she asks when Newt doesn't go on.

He looks up, as if she has pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Minho found me," he says. "He went back to get help, and he and Alby simply _dragged_ me back to the Glade. They were just in time; I never would've made it back on my own."

He stops for a moment.

"Of course I couldn't be a Runner, anymore, and I actually didn't want to be. To be honest, things went better after that. Alby made me second-in-command, and..."

He bites his lip.

"And Lauren came."

Flore's mind immediately connects the name 'Lauren' and 'the only other girl here, who died'.

"It was like we were meant to be," he says, sounding dreamily, but also in pain. "She was just perfect. But then WICKED decided to take her away, too. There was a Griever attack, and the Grievers took me away from the Glade. Lauren and my friends came to look for me, and they found me, but the happiness only lasted for a couple of minutes. Four WICKED people came, carrying guns, and they told us that they had to kill us. They started shooting, and Lauren got hit while trying to protect me. She died, and she died for me."

Newt's voice sounds choked by then, and immense sadness streams into Flore's chest. She didn't expect that his story would upset her that much.

"And then you came," he continues, his voice not bitter or angry anymore, just sad. Really, really sad. "I'm sorry that I acted so mean to you. It just... It just felt like they had replaced her, and that made me angry. It wasn't your fault, I can see that now. I'm sorry."

Flore feels her mouth drop open, and then she closes it again to swallow the lump in her throat away.

"I-It's all right," she says, feeling stunned.

 _How is it possible that he has changed that much in ten minutes?_ she wonders again. _And how is it possible that he can take that all? No wonder that he was acting so mean._

"I understand it."

The blond boy's face brightens at that.

"Really?" he asks.

Flore nods.

"Why don't we just start all over again?" she asks, smiling a little.

Newt frowns, but nods. "All right."

Flore walks a couple of metres away from the picnic table, to walk back towards it.

"Hi, I'm Flore," she says, holding out a hand.

Newt shakes it, smiling a small grin. "Newt."

"How are you, Newt?" she asks him, and he replies: "A lot better, thanks."

 **Man, I literally cried while writing this! People who have read Dark Days will understand :'(**

 **PS: Does anyone have requests? I'm bored.**


	17. Nightmare

It is late in the evening, hours after the Doors have closed.

Tim is sitting in the Slammer, his legs folded under him, next to Josiah, who is peacefully sleeping. The prison is too small for the both of them to lie down, so Tim had offered to sit instead of lie down so that Josiah could sleep. They had argued about that for a couple of minutes, until Josiah finally gave in and fell asleep.

He is now lying curled up, on the hard, concrete floor, his dark hair tickling Tim's knee. He knows that he'll never say it out loud, but his best friend looks adorable when he is asleep.

Tim watches as he breathes in, and out, and in, and out...

The rhythm is making him drowsy. He is about to fall asleep when Josiah mumbles something in his sleep. It is too quiet to understand what he is saying.

Tim shrugs and closes his eyes.

Then Josiah mutters the word again, loud enough for Tim to understand it, and it makes his blood freeze in his veins.

"Tim..."

Tim shakes his head, thankful for the darkness; now nobody can see that his face is burning red.

 _No, that can't be right. He probably said something else, like 'swim' or 'gym' or something._

 _People say weird things in their sleep._

It is silent again, for a couple of minutes.

Tim has nearly fallen asleep – again – when Josiah shifts in his sleep and mutters: "T-Tim... No..."

Tim sits upright.

Now he has heard it very clearly; Josiah was saying his name in his sleep. Hopeful thoughts escape from the prison in his head, but he pushes them back.

 _Of course Josiah isn't in love with you, Tim,_ he strictly tells himself. _It can't be. Stop being so desperate._

 _Don't you think you'd notice if your best friend was gay, too?_

Josiah moves in his sleep again, and this time, his eyes fly open. He shoots upright, breathing heavily before he sees that he is just in the Slammer.

"S-Sorry," he says to Tim. "I... I just had a nightmare."

Tim nods, deciding to keep the saying-your-best-friend's-name-in-your-sleep-thing for himself. He doesn't really feel like embarrassing Josiah right now.

"It's all right," he manages to reply, knowing that he is still blushing but uncertain whether Josiah can see it or not. "You can go back to sleep. I won't let anything happen to you."

The words have left his mouth before he can stop them. He bites his lip before he can say any more stupid things.

Josiah frowns, but nods, looking tired.

"Yeah. Goodnight, Tim."

"Night," Tim replies, watching as his best friend lies down on the floor again and immediately falls asleep.

 _"I won't let anything happen to you."_

He meant the words, though; he knows that Josiah is afraid that George's friends will come to kill him, to take revenge. He had told Tim that right after the Gathering yesterday, when everyone else had left the room.

Tim had told him then that he would protect Josiah with everything he had. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he meant it; he really would protect Josiah with everything he had.

That is the last thought he has before he falls asleep.

 _Josiah, I will make sure that you are safe._

 **Josim cuteness! (Does anyone like them? I don't have much experience with writing about gay couples, but I just wanted to try it.)**


	18. Dandelion Crowns

Flore's brain is calm, that night. No dreams, no new missions.

A small part of her is happy about it, but a big part isn't. It feels like calm before the storm; a moment to catch your breath before you need to run even faster.

It makes her feel like her nerves are working twice as hard, and that's also the reason why Winston nearly scared her to death, even though he was just standing against the wall, next to the ladder to the attic.

"Whoa, relax," the black-haired Keepers says with a small smile. "It's just me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Flore replies, rubbing her hand over her face.

She is feeling tired already, even though she has slept better than the past couple of nights.

"So... had any more dreams?" Winston asks her.

She looks up, a little surprised; she had nearly forgotten that she had told Winston about the dreams.

"No," she responds, shaking her head. "And I'm not happy about it. It feels like something bad is going to happen. It's driving me crazy."

Winston shrugs.

"Well, at least nothing bad's going to happen today, I guess," he says. "We've brought the Cooks enough meat for two days, so we only have to feed the animals and then we're done for today."

Flore feels a smile play on her lips. A free day is, actually, exactly what she needs today. She thinks that she can't bear to be in a room filled with people with knives, now that her nerves are overreacting.

"Well, that's nice," she says, grinning.

"I know, right?" Winston responds, grinning back. "And it's even nicer that I've already fed the animals."

Flore's smile grows wider. A whole free day...

"That's awesome," she replies.

Winston nods. "You're welcome. So... how about having breakfast?"

* * *

The two of them end up sitting in the Deadheads, their backs against the trees. It is silent while they sit there, but it is a pleasant silence. Winston could be sitting there forever, next to Flore.

The redheaded girl has been fidgeting with something for a while, but Winston is too sleepy to look what it is; he is too busy enjoying the morning sun on his face. He gets pulled out of his slumbering state by cool fingers touching his forehead and putting something in his hair.

His eyes shoot open.

"Hey! What..." he begins, but he stops when he sees Flore's face.

She is smiling, an absent-minded but focused smile. She is very close, close enough to kiss her if he would want to – where did that thought come from? – and the bright sunlight makes golden flocks in her green eyes.

She looks pretty, Winston realizes, but not pretty enough to distract him from the fact that she has just put something in his hair.

"What did you put in my hair?" he asks, knowing that he sounds a little distrusting.

Flore smiles, showing her white teeth.

"A flower crown," she says, and her innocent smile seems to become a frolic smirk. "A dandelion crown. Those little fluffs are all over your hair, now."

Winston jerks the thing off his head and rubs the white fluffs out of his hair. The tiny parachute-like seeds fly through the air and land on his clothes.

Some of them also land in Flore's hair; a nearly satisfying result, Winston thinks.

 _Revenge._

He picks the flower crown up – which is, he hates to admit it, beautifully made – and puts it in Flore's hair.

Then he stops.

He hadn't expected that the dandelion crown would have that effect on her. It makes her look wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous. He could write a poem about it.

Flore looks him in the eyes, puzzled.

"What?" she asks, sounding innocent. "What's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Winston closes his mouth – he didn't even know that it had dropped open – and quietly replies: "Well... Flore... you're beautiful."

Her mouth drops a bit open, but then she says: "You know, I didn't expect you to say that."

"Why not?" Winston asks, surprised. He isn't that heartless, is he?

"Well, you know, you're more the 'tough silent Slicer' instead of the 'sweet complimentary softie'," she says, shrugging. "I like the first one more, though."

Winston feels a smile play on his lips. He knows that he must look incredibly stupid, but he still says: "Believe it or not, but I can be a softie, too."

At least, that's what he _wanted_ to say before a new voice interrupts their conversation.

The _'believe it or not'_ has barely left his mouth before it gets cut off by an amused "You guys are so cute together, you know."

Winston's head whips to the side and he sees Minho, leaning against a tree, inspecting his nails.

"How... How long have you been standing there?" Winston asks him, feeling that his cheeks grow red.

The Asian looks up.

"Long enough," he replies drily, giving the Slicer a knowing look. "I'm bored."

"Don't you have to run today?" Flore asks. There is confusion and a little irritation in her voice; apparently she feels exactly the same as Winston. "You're a Runner, right?"

"Yeah, I am," Minho replies, "but the others don't want to go running. They say that there are too less of them, and they don't trust each other after the thing with George and Josiah. To be honest, I don't really feel like running, too, so I gave them a day off."

"Does Alby agree with that?" Winston asks.

Minho shrugs. "It doesn't matter as long as we don't get caught." He frowns, then smiles. "Talking about getting caught... How about playing a game with me?"

Winston rolls his eyes. Did their conversation really have to be interrupted for something _that_ childish?

He sighs, knowing that Minho's temper explodes if he doesn't get what he wants, and replies: "All right, then. _One_ game."


	19. Games With Annoying Asians

"...forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, FIFTY! Ready or not, here I come!"

Minho spins around, looking around if he can see Winston or Flore. Of course, he can't; the two teenagers are hiding high in a tree, right above him.

Flore smiles as the Asian starts to walk through the Deadheads, searching them behind trees. She looks at Winston, who is sitting next to her, his knees pulled up to his chin.

"Do you think that he'll ever find us?" she whispers to him.

Winston shakes his head.

"No, I don't think so," he silently replies, grinning at her. He is still looking a little absent-minded, making Flore wonder what he is thinking about.

She thinks about what he had said to her, only minutes ago. _"Well... Flore... you're beautiful."_

It had surprised her, and she had tried to cover her confusion with a joke, but the sentence is still stuck in her head.

What had Winston meant with it? He wouldn't just say something if he didn't mean it. But why would he think that she is beautiful?

Winston waves his hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Flore? Did you even hear what I was saying?" he asks, still whispering.

Flore shakes her head, feeling stupid because she didn't hear him.

"No, I'm sorry," she whispers back.

The black-haired Keeper rolls his eyes.

"I said that I think that Minho is in trouble," he says, grinning a frolic grin. "Come on."

He starts to climb through the trees, and, after hesitating for a moment, Flore follows him. They clamber through the leaves and branches until they are at the edge of the Deadheads. When Flore looks down, she sees that Winston was right; Minho has bumped into Alby, and the leader is heatedly talking to him.

Flore bends down to hear what they are saying.

"...so you're saying that nobody wanted to run today?" Alby asks, sounding unbelievingly.

"Yes, that's what I said," Minho replies, sounding calm, as usual. "They have been refusing to run for two days, now, because they don't trust each other because of what happened with Josiah and George. They think that their fellow Runners are suddenly turning evil."

"You know that that's no excuse to let your Runners have a day off, right?" Alby asks him, his voice turning a little dangerous.

Minho shrugs, which seems to make Alby even angrier. "I didn't really feel like fighting in the early morning. Besides, we're with too less to run all the Sections."

"Then you just _skip_ a couple of Sections!" Alby yells, losing his temper. "I don't care what you do! Just don't hang around in the Glade, doing nothing!"

"I wasn't doing nothing," the Asian Runner calmly points out. "I was playing hide-and-seek with Winston and Flore."

The two teenagers in the tree suck in their breath at the same moment. They both think the same thing at the same moment: _He's going to blame us for this._

Luckily, that isn't the case. Alby pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Minho, get out of here and make sure the Runners are running in the Maze or I'll _let my fist play a game of tag with your face!_ "

Minho apparently decides that it is better not to argue with that, because he nods and runs away, towards the group of Runners that is sitting on the picnic tables. Judging by their annoyed faces, Minho is telling them that they have to run, anyway.

Alby walks away, probably to annoy someone else.

"Well, there goes our game of hide-and-seek," Winston remarks, pouting as if he pities it.

Flore smiles back.

"Yeah, it's a shame," she says.

Then Winston grins, looking at her.

"Can you make one more of those dandelion crowns?" he asks, surprising her.

"Why?" she asks.

Winston shrugs.

"Because I secretly kinda like them?" he replies, making it sound like he is testing how the answer sounds - and maybe that's even the case.

Her smile grows.

"Of course," she says sweetly. "Weirdo."

She reaches out to drop leaves on his head, and the green leaves fall and stay stuck in his hair. Squeaking, he pushes her, but not really hard.

She giggles and says: "All right, but we'll need to find some dandelions first."

 **Yaay! Winstore! (No, that's a weird ship name... lol.) Florinston maybe? DOES ANYONE KNOW A SHIP NAME FOR THESE TWO?**

 **PS: Do you guys even like this story? I'm suddenly very unsure about it... :(**


	20. Get Stung

_"Listen very closely, Florilene. You are about to hear your third mission, and yet your next to last one."_

 _Miss Paige bends forward to the little girl across the table, as if she is about to whisper a secret to her. Flore involuntarily bends forward, too, so that she can hear them better._

 _"Do you promise me that you will listen to me, and that you will not tell anyone about what I tell you?"_

 _Florilene nods, her long, red hair bouncing up and down. "I promise, Miss Paige."_

 _"Okay," the older woman says, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "When you are fourteen years old, and you are in the Maze for five nights, you have to find a Griever and get stung. You have to go through the Changing to get an important memory back, which will help you understand the next mission."_

 _Flore feels the colour disappear from her face. She has to get stung by a Griever. That can be deadly, and if not, really, really painful._

 _Alby has warned her for that. "_ Make sure you never run into a Griever," _he had said._ "If that happens, you'll probably wish that you were dead."

 _And Flore knows that something has to be really bad to want to be dead._

 _She sees that Florilene pales, too; she probably knows what a Griever is, and what the Changing can do with someone._

 _Her little voice trembles as she replies: "Y-Yes, Miss Paige. I'll try to do that."_

 _"And remember," Miss Paige says, smiling, "if you do not fulfil a mission, something bad will happen."_

 _Then the dream fades, leaving Flore with a horrible feeling._

* * *

 _"What_ do you have to do?"

Winston looks at her with a look of horror on his face.

Flore bites her lower lip.

"I have to get stung by a Griever," she says, her voice sounding smaller than ever before.

The fear she felt during the dream has only became worse, because she woke up right after the dream had ended, and she couldn't sleep, anymore. She has never seen a Griever before, but what she has heard about them is bad.

Very, very bad.

Winston looks her in the eyes. Something of despair flashes over his face.

"But it's a _Griever!_ Don't you know how dangerous those are?"

"And don't you know how dangerous the Creators are?" Flore reminds him. "That woman said that if I don't fulfil the missions, something bad will happen to me or my friends. I don't care about what they can do to me, but I don't want them to hurt you, or Tim, or someone else."

Winston deeply breathes in.

"I'm coming with you," he says, straightening his back.

Flore shakes her head.

"No, please, don't," she says. "I don't want you to get hurt. I have to do this by myself."

Turning around, she says to him: "Just cross your fingers for me."

Then she walks away, towards the Homestead, to steal a syringe with Grief Serum.


	21. Get Stung and Survive This

Flore is running through the big, concrete hallways of the Maze.

Strange enough, nobody has seen her; they let her steal the Grief Serum, which is in her pocket now, and nobody noticed her sneaking through the Doors. The small syringe ticks against her leg as she takes a turn into another corridor.

She has no idea where she is; she went into the Maze through the East Door, but she doesn't know whether she is close to the Glade or not. She only knows that the hallways seem endless, and that her legs are growing tired.

She leans against a wall while trying to catch her breath. Her heart is pounding, both of the running and the fear for the Griever; it seems to grow worse with every step.

Sighing, she starts to run again. Hallway, corner, another hallway, another corner.

Flore tries to keep running in the same tempo, but she can't. She starts to understand why she didn't have to become a Runner.

Just when she turns into the umpteenth corridor, a whirring sound sounds behind her.

She immediately shoots behind a wall. She can feel her blood rustle in her ears.

 _A Griever_.

She doesn't have to look to know that. She swallows difficultly.

 _This is it._

Closing her fingers around the syringe in her pocket, she steps into the hallway. When she sees the Griever, standing on the other side of the corridor, she has to do her best to not faint.

The thing is even bigger than she expected, about two metres high. Its metal arms are attached to claws and knives and needles.

 _That's it. The needles._

 _That's what he stings with._

The half-machine monster growls loudly when it sees her.

Flore closes her eyes for a moment. Then she hurls towards the Griever.

It immediately reacts by pushing the arms with the knives forward, towards her. For a tiny moment, she wonders how she is going to do this.

How can she get stung without dying?

But she pushes the thought away and puts all of her force into her legs.

The Griever shrieks when she comes closer, into the arms' reach. A knife shoots towards her. She dodges it.

In a couple of seconds, claws and blades have surrounded her. Her brain only wants two things: get stung and survive this.

Especially that last thing.

Flore slaps a claw away when it comes closer. A knife moves towards her and makes a cut in her tank top. She kicks the weapon away before it can cut through her skin.

While all of her focus is on the sharp things that are trying to kill her, Flore doesn't see that the arms with the needles are coming closer every second.

When she kicks a claw away, she feels a sharp prick in her back, immediately followed by a prick in her upper leg.

 _That's it._

 _I'm stung._

 _Now I need to get out of here without dying._

As fast as her legs can carry her, she sprints away from the Griever. She doesn't care whether it is following her or not; the venom is already working, making black spots appear in front of her eyes, like ink on paper. Pain starts to explode inside her body, a silent, throbbing pain.

She is completely out of breath by the time she has run around the corner. Her hands are shaking as she picks the syringe out of her pocket.

Without hesitating, she stings it in her leg.

Panting, she leans against the wall.

 _Come on, Flore,_ she says to herself. _Don't give up. You also need to go back to the Glade._

But when she stands up, the world starts to rotate, and she falls on the ground.

For some reason, she thinks: _I wish that Winston was here_.

Then she passes out.

 **Wham! Cliffhanger... *evil laugh***


	22. Paper Butterflies

That night, Winston is lying on the floor, in the Homestead, in his sleeping bag, next to the bed where Flore is lying on.

She is still unconscious, just like when Minho carried her through the South Door, into the Glade. She was lying in the Runner's arms, her red hair like a waving flag. She had looked even smaller than usual.

Winston remembers the worry and fear he felt then very well. He had literally dropped everything he was doing and had sprinted towards her.

He had expected her to be covered in blood, but she was unharmed, apart from the Griever stings and a ripped-apart tank top. She looked rather peaceful, as if she was just sleeping, but it still feels like Winston's stomach is filled with nervous butterflies.

Not 'just' nervous butterflies; paper butterflies, and they are making tiny paper cuts inside his body.

He turns to lie on his side.

After that, they had walked towards the Homestead. A lot of Gladers had come to look, and their talking had echoed over the Glade.

 _"What happened?"_

 _"It's that stupid girl again. She got stung."_

 _"How? She isn't even supposed to be in the Maze!"_

 _"Maybe she went into it."_

 _"Why would you go into the Maze on purpose?"_

 _"I have no shucking idea."_

And when Tim started to freak out by seeing Flore's limp body, Winston had yelled that they all had to shut up. The loud talking annoyed him; he just wanted some silence, and time to worry.

Which he didn't get until now, for he refused to leave Flore's side.

He was there while the Med-Jacks were checking on her – Jeff said that she was going to be perfectly fine – and when some Gladers came visiting. Flore didn't get many visitors – not many Gladers knew her personally, for she had only been there for five days – but Newt came, and Minho, and some curious shanks who were chased away by Winston soon after they came into the room.

Winston smiles a little in the darkness. Flore surely would have liked to see that. Winston had sprinted after the curious Gladers, who were a little younger than most of the others. They had squeaked like little girls. Winston had to chase them all the way out of the Homestead, because the three boys kept coming back.

And Newt... Newt looked even more worried than Winston. Winston had to ensure him that Flore was going to be all right, but he feels like he didn't do quite a good job. Flore would've done it much better.

Winston wonders what she has said to Newt to make him forget that she has talked about Lauren on her first day. She has probably told him something amazing. Everything about Flore is amazing, and Winston is really happy that she is alive and all right.

With that happy feeling, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

* * *

 _Flore is standing in a white hallway. Each wall is lined with grey-painted doors._

This is the WICKED Headquarters _, she thinks, though she doesn't know how she knows that._

 _She doesn't have time to figure that out; someone walks past her. A redheaded, slender and small girl, who Flore immediately recognizes as Florilene, her own younger version. She is a little older, now, though; twelve, maybe thirteen years old._

 _The younger girl walks past Flore, quietly humming a song, and Flore feels like she has to follow her, so she does. Florilene turns around a corner, and then she suddenly stands still. Flore nearly bumps into her, though she knows that that isn't even possible._

 _She looks over the head of the shorter girl._

 _The door at the end of the corridor is standing open. Flore can see the back of a woman with grey-blond hair in a chignon._

Miss Paige _._

 _A black-haired, small figure is crouched next to the door, out of Miss Paige's sight. She feels her eyes grow huge as she sees the knife in the boy's hand._

Wait a minute, _Flore's brain says._ That's...

 _She thinks it at the moment that Florilene sprints towards him._

 _"Winston!" she hisses. "What are you doing?"_

 _The boy turns around to her. It is indeed Winston, and he doesn't look very happy._

 _"Leave me alone, Florilene," he snaps, quiet enough for Miss Paige not to hear it. "I have to do this on my own."_

 _Florilene gasps as she realizes it. "You're not gonna kill her, are you?"_

 _"Shh!" Winston hisses, bending forward; he is about to throw the knife at Miss Paige._

Wait a minute, _Flore's brain screams._ That can't be Winston. He would never do something like that.

 _"Winston! Don't!" Florilene whispers, pulling at the older boy's arm. "I know Miss Paige's a bitch, but you can't just kill her!"_

 _Winston pulls himself loose._

 _"I said: leave me alone!" he hisses, starting to lose his patience. "I have to do this, before they can put us in the Maze!"_

 _"But..." Florilene protests, and that is the last straw. Winston finally loses his temper._

 _A low growl escapes from his gritted teeth, and he slashes the knife across Florilene's ribs. The cut isn't deep, but Flore can see on her younger version's face that Winston has done something unforgiveable._

 _While blood stains the rip in her jumper, Florilene turns around. No word or even sound leaves her throat as she walks away._

 _The vision stays long enough for Flore to see that Winston throws the knife at Miss Paige, and misses._

 _Then the memory disappears, leaving Flore alone in the endless darkness._


	23. If I Told You What I Was

**Okay, guys, I'm warning you: this is one of my favorite chapters :). Enjoy!**

"Get up, shanks. Your time in the Slammer is over."

Tim sleepily blinks as Newt's voice wakes him up.

"What? Oh..."

He shakes Josiah's shoulder to wake him up as well.

"Josiah," he says, "our punishment is over. We're allowed to get out of here."

The other boy lazily stretches his arms, showing the gorgeous muscles under his tanned skin. Tim has to do his best not to stare.

"All right," Josiah says, his voice still hoarse of sleep. "Newt, you can just open the Slammer. We're coming."

The blond boy nods and grins, something Tim hasn't seen him doing in days.

"Yes, Sir," he replies, opening the locked door with a rusty key. When the boy has walked away, Josiah stands up.

"I think I'm going, too," he says. "My legs hurt of not using them. I'm gonna walk around a bit."

With those words, he pulls himself out of the small room and disappears from Tim's sight. Tim, who is still feeling rather sleepy, runs a hand through his short hair and starts to put on his shoes. As he does so, he sings a song, the same part over and over again, because he doesn't remember the rest of the lyrics.

" _If I told you what I was,_

 _Would you turn your back on me?_

 _And if I seemed dangerous,_

 _Would you be scared?"_

Without even noticing it, he starts to sing louder, and by the time he has knotted his shoelaces, someone behind him says: "Dude, what the heck?"

Tim's head whips to the side, and he sees that Josiah is standing behind him.

 _Shit._

Blushing, he turns back.

"Why were you singing that?" he hears Josiah ask. His cheeks turn even redder.

"Because it's the only song I know," he replies, trying to sound as calm as possible. It is true, though, but it is also a song that quite fits how he feels.

He sees Josiah's shadow shrug.

"All right, then," he says, sounding like he doesn't care, anymore. "Hey, eh... What are you going to do today? 'Cause I'm already bored."

* * *

The two of them end up in Flore's room, along with Winston. When Tim asked Josiah why he wanted to visit her so badly – it was his idea – he replied that Flore came to see how he was feeling once, and that he felt like he had to make it even. He had snickered after that, telling Tim how ridiculous he looked when Minho and Winston brought Flore to the Homestead.

Tim blushed; he had thought that she was dead, and he had totally freaked out. He laughed, too, but no matter how much fun or worry was in his mind, he always has that weird feeling when Josiah was around. A nervous feeling, but happy and hyper at the same time. He also – kind of – knows what it is.

This is what it feels like to be in love, and you don't know if that person loves you back.

It has been like that for nearly two years, but the past couple of days, it's stronger. Tim doesn't know why it is like that, but when Winston leaves the room to go to the toilet, it is like some unknown instinct takes him over. As soon as the door closes, Tim takes a deep breath.

"Josiah, I've got to tell you something."

Josiah raises his eyebrows. "Has it something to do with that song you were singing this morning?"

"Maybe," Tim admits. "I've been keeping this a secret for quite a while, and I'm very unsure about it."

Josiah smiles comfortingly, that amazing smile that makes Tim's heart always jump up.

"I'm listening," the dark-haired boy says, his voice no more than a comforting whisper. It is that tone that gives Tim the courage to say it.

He takes another deep breath.

"Josiah, I'm in love with you."

No reply comes. Only a terrible silence.

Tim doesn't dare to look at Josiah, scared that he sees something what he doesn't want to see.

He bites his lip.

"But you're not in love with me, are you?"

His voice breaks on that last word. He hears Josiah shift on the bed, but he doesn't know whether he is moving closer or farther away.

"How long?"

"What?" Tim asks, confused.

"How long," Josiah repeats. "For how long have you been in love with me?"

Tim swallows difficultly. "Nearly two years."

He hears Josiah take a deep breath.

"Then I think that it doesn't matter if I say it," he says, and Tim feels a sting of fear in his heart.

 _This is it._

 _He's going to say that he doesn't love me._

 _Our friendship is over now._

 _I screwed everything._

Then the most unexpected answer comes.

"I'm in love with you, too, Tim."

Tim looks up, his eyes huge.

"W-What?" he stutters, knowing that he must look (and sound) like an idiot.

Josiah grins. "I'm in love with you, Tim. Since the day we met."

Tim breathes out, shakily. The only thing he can say is: "I-I didn't see that coming."

Josiah grins even wider, showing his white teeth.

"Come here, you."

With that, he wraps his arms around him. Tim can't do anything but sit there, stunned.

 _Wow._ That's the only thing he can think.

The wonderful scent of dark chocolate reaches Tim's nose, and it's the most amazing thing he has ever smelled. One single tear rolls down his cheek.

"God, I'm so happy, now," he breathes, wrapping his arms around Josiah.

He feels the other boy smile against his shoulder.

"Me, too," Josiah replies.

And when Winston comes back from his bathroom break, he wonders why there are two teenage boys hugging in an unconscious girl's room.

 **Yaaaay! Oh my God, I think I had way too much fun writing this... I told you, it's one of my favorite chapters, beside a chapter later on in the story, which is a little less happy... (SPOILER!)**

 **Have a nice day!**


	24. The Last One

Flore woke up that afternoon, during lunch time. She was alone, because everyone was having lunch. When Winston, Tim and Josiah came into her room and saw that she was awake, wide smiles spread over their faces.

Winston ran towards her and hugged her. Even though the memory was still lying fresh in her mind, Flore hugged him back; she was sure that he had changed. He would never hurt her, or try to kill someone.

Josiah and Tim looked happy, too, but there was something else what she couldn't quite put her finger on.

But she would find out that evening.

* * *

"Hey, Tim. Mind if I sit here?"

Flore gestures at the empty spot next to the tall boy. He smiles and moves to give her some more space.

"No, of course not," he friendly replies. "Sit down."

Flore flops down on the grass. The sunlight is already starting to grow dim; it'll be dark soon. Most Gladers have already gone to sleep, but Flore couldn't find the peace to fall asleep yet, and apparently Tim couldn't either.

"What a day, hm?" he asks her.

Flore rolls her eyes. "Yeah." Then she thinks of something else. "What was going on with you and Josiah? You never left each other's side."

Tim blushes. "I've promised that I won't tell anyone."

"Aww, please?" Flore insists, pouting. "Aren't I your best female friend?"

"I only have one," the boy points out, but then he grins. "Okay. I'll tell you. But you have to swear that you won't tell anyone."

"Tim, I swear to God..."

"Okay, fair enough."

Flore stares at him with open mouth, surprised at his reaction to her threatening remark.

Tim smiles before he says: "Josiah and I are a couple."

Flore happily gasps at that.

"I _knew_ something was going on between you two!" she shouts out. "Tim, I'm so happy for you!"

"Shh, shh," Tim whispers, half laughing. "You'll wake the whole Glade up."

"I don't care!" Flore replies. "Oh my God, Tim! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Tim says, sounding a little surprised; he probably didn't expect her to just accept it and be happy for him.

"Who asked it?" she asks excitedly. She knows that she must sound like an idiot by now, but she doesn't give a shuck.

Tim smiles sheepishly. "I asked him."

"What happened?"

"He asked me for how long I had been in love with him, and I said 'almost two years', and then he told me that he was in love with me, too, and then I said that I didn't expect that, and then we hugged..."

Tim's voice trails off and he sighs. "What are the others going to think of this?"

Flore frowns, suddenly more serious.

"I don't know," she admits. "Some of them will accept it, some won't. But you've already got one Glader by your side, and I'll help you whenever I can."

"Thanks," Tim replies, sounding thankful, and sleepy.

"I think we'd better go to sleep," Flore says, standing up.

Tim yawns, following her lead. "Yeah. Goodnight, Flore."

"Goodnight," Flore replies.

But as they walk away, neither of them notices Victor, the boy hiding behind the trees, who has heard everything, and who is going to tell everyone about it.

* * *

 _"Flore. Flore, listen to me."_

 _Flore opens her eyes, looking right in the face of a woman – Miss Paige. She is sitting alone, this time, behind a desk._

 _Florilene is nowhere to be seen, and Flore wonders how this works. It isn't a memory, at least. That can't be._

 _When she opens her mouth, she realizes that she is talking, but she doesn't control her body herself. It's like she is trapped behind someone's eyes; her own, younger eyes, she realizes._

 _"I'm listening, Miss Paige."_

 _Her voice sounds like it sounds now, only a little higher._

 _Miss Paige nods._

 _"I am going to give you your last mission, now," she says._

Finally _, Flore thinks._ The last one.

 _But then she thinks of what Miss Paige said in the other dreams._

 _"_ You have to be good with a knife to survive all missions."

"No enemies. They need to trust you, that will make your last mission a better Variable."

"You have to go through the Changing to get an important memory back, which will help you understand the next mission."

 _It has something to do with Winston, she knows that, and the feeling she is having about it isn't good._

 _The corner of Miss Paige's mouth curls up, and Flore feels like she isn't going to like what she is going to say._

 _"For your fourth and final mission," the woman says, horribly slowly, "you have to kill the Keeper of the Slicers."_

 _She feels a shock go through her body._

 _"_ Kill the Keeper of the Slicers."

I have to kill him.

I have to kill Winston.

 _"No!" her younger version protests. "I can't just kill him! That isn't right!"_

 _"I was not done talking yet," Miss Paige says, annoyingly patiently._

 _Flore wants to grab that stupid chignon and yank it off her head._

 _"I was going to say that, if you are in some way unable to fulfil this mission, you have to go sit in the Box at sunrise."_

 _Flore feels that she nods, but she doesn't do it herself._

 _She sees that Miss Paige stands up, and though she wants to hit her in the face – with a chair or something – the dream starts to fade, and darkness surrounds her._

 **NOOOOOOOooooo... What's she gonna do? *evil laugh* I know it...**


	25. No Torturing

The light of the rising sun wakes Flore up. She blinks against it a couple of times before she realizes what she has to do.

 _"Go sit in the Box at sunrise."_

She jumps out of her bed, shoots into her clothes and races out of the Homestead. She was there because the Med-Jacks wanted to keep an eye on her, because they know that the Changing can drive people totally nuts. Flore would rather sleep in the farm, but now it is handy that she is so close to the Box. It is only a couple of metres towards the metal elevator.

When she sits down in the Box - the shutters are open - she realizes that she doesn't know what is going to happen to her.

Maybe she won't come back.

Maybe she won't even survive it.

She wishes that she had said goodbye to her friends.

Winston doesn't even know what is going on. He will freak out when he sees that she is gone.

And what if she'll never see Tim or Josiah or Newt or anyone else again?

She wants to climb out of the Box, but then she sees that the shutters have closed. Before she even realizes what is happening, the metal elevator starts to go down.

The darkness in the Box doesn't last very long, about half an hour. Flore's eyes have gotten used to the complete blackness and constant rattling of the lift by the time it stops.

A door in front of her opens.

Bright, white light reaches her eyes, making her blink. Squinting against the sudden explosion of light, she sees that three men in black uniforms are standing in the white hallway in front of her.

One of the men seems familiar, and she feels like that isn't a very good sign. Two of the men, the right one and the left one, walk towards her, roughly grab her upper arms and pull her to her feet. The third one, the familiar one, grins at her.

"Good morning, Florilene," he says, turning around. "Good to see you."

The other men pull Flore forwards, after the familiar man. They drag her through white hallways, white hallways with grey doors, which Flore recognizes from her dream. After six corridors, the man in the front opens a door.

The other men simply _throw_ Flore into the room and close the door behind her. A click sounds as they lock the door.

Flore looks around. She is in a small room, about the form of a prison cell, but cleaner and whiter; a small, empty room with a bunk bed, and a toilet behind a wall.

Flore frowns.

 _Well, at least it's better than I expected,_ she thinks. _No torturing, no killing, no throwing me off buildings. So far._

At the moment that she sits down on the bunk bed, the door opens. She looks up.

A woman in white uniform walks into the room. She looks young, in her early twenties, but her face is so serious that she looks at least twice as old as she is.

She greets Flore with a small nod.

"Good morning, Florilene."

It starts to annoy Flore that people call her by another name. "It's just Flore."

"That is what we made you think," the woman replies.

Flore has to think about that for a moment, which she doesn't get.

"Anyway, Florilene," the woman says, undisturbed, "you are here because you were unable to kill the Keeper of the Slicers. Can you tell me why?"

"Yes," Flore replies, starting to feel irritated. "I couldn't kill him because I love him."

It is true.

The corner of the woman's mouth twitches.

"Then I am afraid that I have got some very unpleasant news for you," she says, making Flore bite her lip. "You have seen the memory of the boy, trying to kill Chancellor Paige. He is dangerous for us, so he must die. There are shooters in the Glade right now, and they are about to kill him."

Something snaps inside Flore. Without even knowing what she is doing, she jumps up and attacks the woman.

In a blur of punching fists, kicking feet and scratching nails, Flore pushes the woman out of the room.

When the door has closed, she yells with choked voice: "How dare you? How dare you just kill someone when you feel like it?"

She slumps down on the bed.

"How dare you?" she whispers.

 _Maybe,_ she thinks, _I was wrong about the no-torturing part._

With that thought, her heartbroken sobbing starts.

 **NOOOOooooo... (again...) I'm so sorry for all these cliffhangers, guys! (But prepare for some more cliffhangers! :) )**


	26. If I Break Up

**Before I even begin: CheetaGirl9X9, you're not gonna like this... (sorry...)**

"Hey! Gay!"

"Sissy!"

"Tim and Josiah, sitting in the tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

With tears in his eyes, Tim turns away from the mocking Gladers and runs into the Deadheads.

The Gladers have been acting like that the whole day, but Tim had always found a way to stay out of their way. Until now. Lunch time.

He doesn't know how they know about him and Josiah – someone must have told them. Tim wants to find that person and beat him to the ground.

Trying not to cry, he climbs into a tree and hides behind the leaves. He snorts bitterly. Flore had promised to help him, but she is nowhere to be seen. Josiah is in the Homestead, probably still asleep, having no idea what's going on. And all of his other friends are either looking at him with disgusted looks on their faces, or hiding somewhere because they don't want to be bullied as well.

One tear escapes from his eye, but he angrily wipes it away. Of course he had expected this. He had a nightmare about it that night. But he secretly hoped that the Gladers wouldn't be so mean, that they would understand it and accept it, like Flore did.

Apparently, they wouldn't.

Voices beneath him roughly jerk him out of his thoughts.

"Where did he go?"

"He's probably crying with his boyfriend."

"That's just disgusting."

Tim hears that the two boys walk away, and at that moment, his foot slips on a branch, and he falls out of the tree. Luckily, the ground is covered in a thick layer of leaves, but unfortunately, the two boys have heard him.

"There he is!" one of them yells.

Tim knows that he is acting like a coward, but he runs off anyway. As soon as he runs out of the Deadheads, the other Gladers see him, too, and they follow him.

Tim can prevent them from catching up with him until he reaches the Homestead. Just in front of the wooden building's door, he trips over something and falls. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, he struggles up, but the Gladers have already surrounded him.

Tim pinches his jaws on each other.

"Leave me alone!" he yells. His voice breaks on the last word, and mocking laughter echoes through the group.

"Look at that. He's crying."

"Yeah, he is. What a sissy."

"Leave me alone!"

Someone imitates Tim's voice, but higher and more like a girl.

Tim desperately looks at his friends – at least, the people that used to be his friends – but none of them moves, none of them intervenes or even says something.

He stifles a sob as the remarks go on.

"Why don't you go cry with your boyfriend?"

"You're unnatural, Timmy. You're a mistake of the nature."

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

The cruel talking changes into a horrible buzzing. Tim can't hold his tears back, anymore. Breathing heavily, he lets the despair take over his mind.

Without even knowing why, he throws his head in his neck and yells on the top of his lungs: "If I break up with him, will you stop then?"

Deathly silence.

Tim clasps a hand over his mouth as he realizes what he just said. He had said that he would break up with Josiah if the Gladers would stop bullying him. It is the most selfish thing he has ever said.

Then a painfully familiar voice breaks the silence.

"What?"

Tim looks up as he hears Josiah's voice. The boy just walks out of the Homestead, his hair adorably ruffled, and a hurt look on his face. Tim abruptly bursts out in sobbing.

"Jo-Josiah... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it like that..."

Josiah squeezes his eyes shut, as if holding back tears, and then he replies with a tone of ice: "No, Tim. If you think about us that way, then it's over."

He walks away, shoulders hanging, bending forward as if he is heavily injured. The Gladers stare at Tim for another moment before they shrug and go back to their business.

Biting his lip, Tim goes after Josiah, who is walking towards the Deadheads.

"Josiah, please, let me explain this..." he tries, but the dark-haired boy turns around to him and snaps: "Leave me alone, Tim."

Tim sniffs broken-heartedly as Josiah goes on walking away. He puts his hands in his pockets and turns around, starting to walk towards a place where Josiah isn't.

And as he does so, he doesn't see the Glader with the brick who hits Josiah on the head.

He also doesn't see that Josiah falls on the ground, unconscious, and that three boys take him with them.

 **Message for CheetaGirl9X9: First: it doesn't matter that you couldn't react for a couple of days, I know the problem :) Second: there are five more cliff-hangers coming... So sorry... But (SPOILER!) it's all gonna be all right :) It won't end like Dark Days... At least one couple will survive, I promise!**


	27. Survive

**Guys, I apologize for this one. So sorry.**

"Alby, I'm _serious!_ I can't find him anywhere!"

Tim sighs, frustrated, as the leader shrugs.

"Tim, calm down," Alby replies. "Did you really look everywhere in the Glade?"

"Yes!" Tim says, growling. "And I'm telling you, he isn't here!"

"Well, it's too late to look for Joshua in the Maze," the dark-skinned boy says. "The Doors will close soon."

Tim sighs again. "First of all, it's Josiah. And second of all, I have to talk to him! It's important!"

"I know."

"Then why won't you let me search for him?"

"Well, first of all," Alby says, imitating Tim's voice, "because it's against the rules. And second of all, because it's dangerous. I'm sorry, Tim, but you can't do anything but wait. If Josiah really is in the Maze, you'd better hope that he'll survive the night."

* * *

"What are you going to do with me?"

Josiah is standing in the middle of a corridor, in the outer Sections of the Maze, his hands tied behind his back. There is a nasty bruise on his temple, exactly at the place where Gally hit him with the brick.

Despite the three boys that are standing in front of him, he doesn't show any fear. Victor respects that; he is quite sure that he would be scared if Gally and Billy would be standing in front of him, especially if they would be this angry.

Nobody replies. Billy and Gally are just staring at the tied up boy, with evil grins on their faces.

"What are you going to do with me?" Josiah asks again.

Gally smirks wider. "You're about to find out, Runner."

"Yeah. This is for killing our friend," Billy adds.

Faster than Victor's eyes can follow, he punches Josiah in the stomach. The boy doesn't make any sound; he only doubles over.

Victor is just standing there, frozen.

Gally pushes Josiah against the concrete wall, face-first. The Runner can't use his hands to catch the blow, so his nose hits the wall hard – Victor can hear it crack – and blood stains the grey concrete.

Josiah growls and tries to kick Gally, but the Builder grabs his foot and throws him onto the ground.

Billy smirks evilly at the boy on the floor and kicks him in the ribs. This time, Josiah does make a sound; a quiet, pained whimper. Victor is quite sure that the boy's ribs are broken.

 _How could I ever be so stupid to join this?_ he wonders. _You're a coward, Victor. You're a dumb, scared Greenie._

Gally and Billy are both kicking Josiah, now, who is lying on the hard floor, quietly moaning.

 _How dare they?_ Victor thinks uselessly. It is wrong to kick someone who is lying on the ground, just like kicking a helpless puppy or bunny.

Billy pulls out his knife, making Josiah shrink even more.

"P-Please... Don't..." he whispers hoarsely.

Gally barks a laugh, pulling out his knife as well. "Do you hear that, Billy? He's begging! The mighty Josiah is begging!"

He holds up his blade, ready to strike.

Now, Victor can't take it anymore. He rushes forward and pulls Gally's arm away.

"Don't!" he yells.

Billy turns around.

"Did you say something, Greenie?" he asks threateningly.

Victor straightens his back.

"Yes, I did," he says, trying to sound as brave as Josiah at first. "Don't kill him. Stop."

The two other boys burst out in mocking laughter. Gally pushes Victor hard, so that the smaller boy hits the ground.

"Shut up, Greenie. Let us take our revenge."

The Greenie stands up, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder.

"No," he says, trying to prevent his voice from shaking. "Leave him alone. You've already done enough."

Gally turns around again, grinning cruelly. Victor would love to run away, and he is pretty sure that he would've done that if feet wouldn't feel like they were glued to the ground.

"You better regret saying that, Greenie," Gally says, throwing his knife.

Victor can duck just in time to dodge it. Climbing on the Builder's back, he starts to punch, even though he knows very well that he doesn't stand a chance.

Gally throws the smaller boy off him, onto the ground, making pain flash through Victor's entire body. He can tell by the look on Gally's face that his hour has struck.

Billy is hitting Josiah with his knife on the background. A large puddle of blood has already formed around him, and Victor knows that he, too, will die very soon.

"That's enough," Gally says to his friend. "Let's finish this before the Doors close. Leave him there to die and give me the knife."

Victor wants to scream, cry, sob, but it feels like an icy hand is squeezing his throat shut.

Gally's fingers play with the knife, just above the Greenie's eyes. The Builder smirks at him.

"Goodbye, Greenie."

He pushes the sharp weapon down, and a horrible pain explodes in Victor's chest. He doesn't have to look to know that it is fatal. Gally never misses.

While black spots appear in front of his eyes and pain is blurring everything, he sees that the two boys walk away.

The last things he will ever see are Gally's ugly sneakers.

The black spots and the pain take everything over, and then there is nothing left anymore.

Nothing at all.

 **I'm so sorry... I literally cried while writing this :'( I'm not sure why I keep doing this in my stories, why I keep killing innocent people... I'm so sorry.**


	28. Fake Memories and Living Slicers

Flore looks up when she hears the sound of an opening door. She has no idea what time it is; it feels like she has been sitting in that room forever.

Even though there is no mirror here, she knows that her eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks wet of the crying. Her throat is raw and her voice is probably hoarse, but she isn't sure – the only sound she has made for the past couple of hours, is a quiet sobbing.

Standing up, she prepares to attack whoever is going into the room, but when she sees who it is, she hesitates.

A young man, about twenty-five years old, steps into the room. He looks friendly and somewhat familiar. When he closes the door behind him, Flore sees that he doesn't lock it.

Is that a good sign? She isn't sure.

The man turns around to her, friendly smiling.

"Good evening, Flore," he says. His voice is warm, and Flore notices that he is the first person here who has called her by her normal name. "Why don't you sit down? You must be tired. It's been a heavy day, isn't it?"

Flore lets out her breath in a puff, trying to suppress her confidence. This could as well be a trap. These people are the Creators, the people who put them in the Maze. She should be careful.

"Who are you, actually?" she asks, attempting to snap. It doesn't really work; her voice is hoarse, and it breaks on every word. She hates it.

The man smiles again.

"I'm so sorry," he says, walking towards her, holding out a hand. "I'm Daniel, but you can call me Dan. Nice to meet you."

He shakes her hand, and Flore fights the urge to step away. Dan sits down on the mattress of the bed.

"But I didn't come here to talk about the weather," he says, sounding a little more serious. "I'm here to bring you some good news."

 _Yeah, sure_ , Flore thinks bitterly. _He came here to tell me that Winston is dead. That's good news for them, but not for me._

"Well, I'm curious," she replies drily.

"You'd better be," Dan says, smiling. "I'm here to tell you that this all was a test to see how you'd react. Winston is alive and safe."

Flore feels her mouth drop open, but then she clears her throat.

"Are you serious?" she asks, trying not to get too happy.

 _It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie,_ she keeps telling herself over and over again.

Dan nods. "As serious as possible. Even the memory you got back was fake. Winston never tried to harm WICKED or you; that's why the cut he supposedly gave you didn't leave a scar."

Flore fights the urge to jump in the air, happily screaming.

Winston is alive.

He is all right.

She nearly can't believe it.

"Well, that's... nice," she manages to say.

Dan grins. "Yes. It is. And you did so well that we've decided to give you a choice; either you go out of the experiment, you get your memories back, you can go back to your family and everything, or you go back into the Maze to be with Winston."

The choice is so easy that Flore doesn't even have to think. "I'm going back into the Maze."

"All right," Dan says, standing up. "I'll make sure they'll send you up with the next Box. That's tomorrow morning. So I advice you to go to sleep now, because it's already late, and you'll need your energy tomorrow."

Then he walks away, leaving Flore behind with the feeling she can burst out of her skin of happiness any moment.

 _Winston is alive._

 _He is unharmed._

 _I'm going back to him._

She sleeps peacefully, that night, having no idea of what's going on inside the Maze.

 **Yay! I told you: at least one couple is going to be happy! But I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do with Josiah and Tim... I actually found the ending of Dark Days pretty strong... I don't know it yet! But you're gonna find out!**


	29. See You Again

"Winston. Winston, wake up, you shank."

Winston opens his eyes as Jack's voice wakes him up. He props himself up on one elbow, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

"What?" he asks, his voice still hoarse of the sleep. "What's going on, Jack?"

"Well, the Box came up," the other Slicer says, "which is weird anyway, but..."

He gets cut off by Winston, who holds up his hand. A familiar voice sounds from the Box's direction, and he immediately knows who it is.

"Clint, leave me alone! No, I'm not sick. Guys, I can walk on my own!"

An immense happiness flows through Winston's body as he listens to Flore's half-laughing voice, too stunned to do anything for a moment. Then he shoots out of his sleeping bag and races towards the Box.

She is standing in the middle of the metal elevator, her hands on her hips. Several Gladers have surrounded her, and the Med-Jacks are trying to look if she is injured or something.

Winston makes his way through the crowd, dashing towards the redheaded girl. She gasps happily as she sees him.

"Winston!"

Before he even realizes it, she is in his arms, and he is in hers.

"Flore... I thought..." Winston pants, out of breath of running all the way to the Box. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Clint throws his hands up in the air, showing that he is giving up.

"All right, guys, go back to your business!" the Med-Jack shouts to the other Gladers. "Give them some privacy."

The boys shrug and walk away, but not after curiously peeking at them, as if they are wondering what is going on.

Flore giggles.

"God, I'm so happy to see you again," she says, smiling uncontrollably.

Winston hugs her even tighter.

"Where were you?" he asks worriedly. "You were gone for more than a day. Did they kidnap you?"

Flore's face darkens.

"I'll explain it later," she says. "Not here."

Then she brightens up. "Where are Tim and Josiah? How are they?"

Winston notices that he doesn't feel anything of jealousy for the two boys. Of course she is worried about her friends.

Then he swallows difficultly.

"Did you know that they were gay?" he asks.

Flore's eyes grow huge. "Did they tell you?"

"No," Winston replies, shaking his head. "Someone told everyone about them. The Gladers were so mean to Tim. The poor boy got so desperate that he broke up with Josiah."

Flore gasps and clasps her hands over her mouth.

"No," she whispers.

"It got even worse," Winston goes on, nearly being sorry about having to tell her this. "Josiah is missing since then. He's not in the Glade. We think that Gally, Billy and Victor took revenge on him for killing George. Tim has locked himself in a room, crying. He's so worried."

Flore pulls herself out of the hug.

"I need to find him," she says, starting to climb out of the Box. "I'm going to get Tim and then we're going to search Josiah."

Winston grips hold of her arm.

"No," he says. "It's too dangerous. Remember the last time you went into the Maze? I don't want that to happen again. Besides, the Runners are already looking for him. Whether he has survived it or not, they're going to find him. For now, we can't do anything but wait."

 **DOUBLE UPDATE, because I found this chapter way too short and I didn't want to disappoint you :)**

 **PS: Three cliff-hangers left!**


	30. Awful Lie

**WARNING: I think most of are not going to like this... :'(**

Tim gets jerked out of his sleep by the sound of someone knocking on the door. He didn't even know that he was asleep; he must have cried himself to sleep.

"No!" he shouts to whoever dares to disturb him. "Leave me alone!"

"Tim, it's me," a muffled voice says from the other side of the door. "It's Dave. Please, open up. It talks easier."

Growling, Tim gets to his feet. His back hurts from sitting against the wall all night.

Even though he'd rather be left alone, he is curious about what the Runner wants to tell him. He opens the door.

"What is it, Dave?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

The other boy shuffles his feet.

"We found Josiah," he begins, but the look on his face shows that it isn't good news.

Tim wants to shake him.

"He isn't dead, is he?" he asks, a horrible fear starting to flow into his body. "Is he?"

Dave swallows difficultly.

"There was a dead boy with him," the Runner says. "Victor, the Greenie. I'm not sure if Josiah is dead, too."

* * *

The following couple of minutes pass in a blur. Tim didn't even take the time to put on his normal clothes; he just dashed through the Glade, in his pyjamas, grabbed Clint by the arm and pulled him into the Maze. The older Med-Jack didn't even ask what was going on – he probably could feel that it was bad and that they needed his help.

Dave is running in the front, because he knows the way. With every step, Tim's anxiety and fear grows.

What if Josiah is dead?

He doesn't dare to think about it, so he puts the thoughts out of his head as well as he can and tries to focus on the running, even though he doesn't have to; he is running so fast that he catches up with Dave every now and then.

When they are in the Maze for about twenty minutes, Dave stops. Tim hears him gasp, and he wonders if he even dares to look.

"We're there," the Runner says, looking paler than first.

Tim peeks over Dave's shoulder, and the sight makes him want to burst out in crying.

Two limp bodies are lying next to each other, one of them small, one of them painfully familiar. They are both lying in big puddles of blood. The small boy – this must be Victor – is lying on his back, his stiff fingers clawing at the knife that is sticking out of his chest. Blood is dripping from his mouth.

Tim fights the urge to throw up.

He doesn't dare to look at Josiah.

What if he looks like that, too?

But his eyes involuntarily go to the muscular boy, and new fear makes its way into Tim's head.

Josiah is lying on his side, facing them. His eyes are closed. Half of his face is covered in dried blood, but the visible part is alarmingly pale, because of the blood loss. His shirt, that used to be spotless white, is now dark red.

Tim sniffs, on the edge of crying, as he sees Josiah like that. The usually strong and confident boy is now lying on the ground, dying.

That is when Tim gets pulled out of his frozen fright. He pushes Clint, who is still trying to catch his breath, towards Josiah.

"What are you _waiting_ for?" Tim yells at him, his voice breaking. " _Do_ something!"

The Med-Jack holds up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Relax," he mutters as he kneels down by the injured boy.

Tim sees that he holds two fingers against Josiah's throat. For a moment, it is completely silent.

"His heart is beating," he then says, making relief flow through Tim's body. "But it's really slow."

Clint gestures at the two other boys. "We need to roll him on his back. Help me."

Dave and Tim walk towards him. Tim grabs Josiah's shoulder, as careful as possible – he doesn't want to hurt him even more.

"Okay, one, two, three," Clint says, and on three, the boys roll Josiah on his back. A horrible _splash_ sounds as the unconscious boy lands in the blood.

Clint frowns.

"Dave, can you get me that knife?" he asks, pointing at the knife in Victor's chest.

The Runner pales, but nods. A couple of seconds and a shivering growl later, he comes back with the blood-covered weapon in his hands.

Clint nods and takes the knife from him, cleaning it with his sleeves. Then he cuts Josiah's shirt open with one simple movement. Tim is too worried to find it amazing.

Carefully, Clint peels the once-white shirt off Josiah's body. What is under the shirt is simply said a ravage.

Stab wounds are scattered across Josiah's whole body, and his chest is alarmingly dent in. Clint frowns again.

"Broken ribs," he then says, using that doctor-tone that both Med-Jacks use sometimes. "I don't know how many. Stab wounds, blood loss... He didn't get stung, though. Odd." He looks up. "I'm going to bandage him here, and then we'll need to get him back to the Glade."

Tim nods, mentally trying to contact Josiah because he doesn't dare to say the words out loud.

 _Hold on, Josiah_.

 _Hold on. We're going to get you back to the Glade, and then everything is going to be all right._

He doesn't even know if he believes it himself. Then he adds something he is sure about.

 _I love you._

Tim watches in silence as Clint bandages Josiah's chest and stands up.

"We'll need to carry him," the Med-Jack says, seeming not too happy with the idea.

Dave sticks a finger in the air, as if he is in a classroom and Clint is the teacher.

"Maybe I can go back to get some people with a stretcher," the Runner offers. "Then we don't have to carry him all the way back to the Glade."

"Yeah, good idea," Clint says. "But please hurry; I'm not sure for how long Josiah can hold on."

Dave nods and sprints away, in the direction where they just came from. When he has disappeared from their sight, Clint turns to Tim. The expression on his face is sad and pitying, and Tim has – for the second time that day – the feeling that the boy doesn't have good news.

"Tim," the older Med-Jack says, looking down at Josiah. "I hate to tell you, but... Josiah probably isn't going to make it. He has lost so much blood... Maybe he'll stay alive, but I don't know if he's ever going to wake up again."

Tim bites his lip until he tastes blood. He doesn't want to cry, not here, not now, but he can already feel the tears in his eyes.

 _Josiah maybe won't wake up again._

 _Maybe he'll even die._

 _And if he dies, he'll die thinking that I don't love him, but that's the most awful lie in the entire world. I love him with my whole heart, and it'd destroy me if he dies._

He swallows difficultly, unable to speak, because he knows that his voice will break as soon as he says only one word.

"I know that it's hard," Clint says, sounding lost in his thoughts. "But maybe you shouldn't lost hope. Even after being a Med-Jack for more than one-and-a-half year, even after not being able to save at least ten Gladers, I still believe in miracles."

But Tim would swear that when the Med-Jack smiles at him, the smile looks more like a grimace.

 ***crying***


	31. The Day We First Met

**Hey, guys! I apologize for not updating yesterday (I was at my grandparents' place with my cousins, so I didn't have any time to write), and I also apologize for making you cry during/after reading this chapter... So sorry.**

Flore hesitates before she knocks on the door of Josiah's room.

It has been nearly an hour since the small group – Tim, Clint, a Runner, and Jeff and a Builder with the stretcher – had carried Josiah into the Glade.

Flore was extremely worried by then, especially after Dave came to get two people with a stretcher. When Flore rushed towards the small group and asked what happened, Tim only shook his head and went into the Homestead, along with Josiah and the Med-Jacks. Flore felt that she had to leave them alone and she had gone back to her work, but the worry kept eating on her, so while the other Gladers were having lunch, she had gone into the Homestead.

And here she was, standing in front of Josiah's room, only a closed door keeping her away from her friends. All she has to do, is knock, but she hesitates, though she isn't sure why.

After sighing, she knocks.

"Come in," Tim's hoarse voice replies.

Flore pushes the door open and closes it behind her.

"Hey, Tim," she quietly greets him.

The tall boy is sitting on the edge of the bed, his long fingers intertwined as if he was praying. He doesn't look like he has cried; he only looks very, very tired.

Flore's eyes shift to Josiah. He is lying in the bed, two pillows put behind his back so that he can sit upright. His eyes are closed, and his face is clean, not covered in blood like Flore saw an hour ago. The blanket is pulled up to his chest, but not high enough to hide the white bandage.

"Hi, Flore," Tim replies, moving to the side so that Flore can sit next to him.

She sits down.

"So... How are you?" she asks him, trying to sound as caring as possible.

Tim grimaces. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Well... How is Josiah doing?" Flore asks, and exactly at that moment, as if it is to answer the question, Josiah gasps for air.

"T-Tim..." he breathes.

His eyes fly open, and what Flore sees, frightens her.

Josiah's pupils are huge, so big that nearly all of the brown in his eyes has disappeared, but he doesn't seem to see anything; he seems to be looking right through them.

"Tim," he whispers again. "Tim... Are you there?"

Tim looks at Flore for a moment, his grey eyes filled with fear, but then he replies: "Yes, Josiah. I'm here."

"Good," Josiah says, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. His eyes are still darting through the room, still not seeing anything. It is simply said terrifying.

"Tim..." the dark-haired boy then whispers, "do you remember the day we first met?"

Tim bites his lip, looking scared.

"Josiah, please, don't," he says, obviously trying not to sound like he is on the edge of crying, but failing. "You talk like you're going to die."

But Josiah goes on, as if he didn't even hear Tim, hoarsely whispering.

"You were one of the first Greenies to ever come up with the Box," the dark-haired boy says. "You were so upset, and you ran away as soon as they had pulled you out of the Box. I remember telling Nick that I would talk to you. I found you in the Deadheads, crying and telling me to leave. I didn't, and it's the best decision I've ever made."

The tears are now really streaming down Tim's cheeks, and Flore feels the urge to cry, too.

"I remember that," Tim whispers, his voice choked. "Your hair was longer, then."

Josiah's eyes finally stop moving, and they fix on the tall boy on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," Josiah whispers. "Good times."

His eyes close and his head falls backwards, his breath leaving his mouth in a quiet puff.

Tim looks at Flore, his eyes unbelievably worried.

"He's not breathing," the Slopper whispers. Then he seems to wake up. "He's not breathing. Flore, go _get_ someone!"

Flore doesn't even take the time to nod. She races out of the room, through the wooden walls of the Homestead, towards the picnic tables where the Gladers are having lunch.

Thank God – the Med-Jacks are sitting on the closest table.

She grabs Clint's arm and pulls him towards the Homestead.

"Hey... What's going on?" the older boy asks, and Flore replies with a stressed: "Josiah isn't breathing. You've got to do something."

Now the boy is running, too.

They dash through the Homestead as fast as they can, and when they have reached Josiah's room, Clint races into the room and slams the door shut behind him.

Flore stays behind, in the corridor, leaning against the wall.

 _Oh, God,_ she thinks. _Josiah is dying._

 _He is really dying._

The realization hadn't hit her like that before, and now that it has, Flore can't do anything but sit down on the wooden floor and sob.

 **I am so, so, so, so sorry, guys! I cried while writing this.**

 **But, on the** ** _brighter_** **side of things: this is the last cliffhanger! And I've reached a THOUSAND views! Thank you so much! Never thought that so many people would read this!**


	32. I'm Here

That night, Tim is lying on the floor, in Josiah's room, on top of his sleeping bag. He is feeling too hot to lie inside the cotton bag, even though he knows that it is winter. Maybe he has a fever or something. He wouldn't care.

The horrible fear he felt that afternoon has left an echo, which is maybe even worse. He remembers the look in Josiah's eyes after he said "Good times".

He didn't look scared.

He looked so calm that it ripped Tim's heart apart, as if the other boy didn't mind dying.

He also remembers how Clint had rushed into the room, pushed Tim away and started to do mouth to mouth resuscitation. Josiah's heart had started beating again after a half minute, but it was the worst half minute of Tim's entire life – at least, the part of his life that he could remember.

He is happy that Josiah is still alive - of course he is happy -, but he knows that he'll have to feel that fear again sometime, and it frightens him. He doesn't know what he'd do if Josiah's heart stops beating again, and if it doesn't start anymore. He'd probably throw himself off the Cliff.

The quiet rustling of bed sheets gently pulls him out of his thoughts.

Then a voice.

"Tim?"

Tim shoots upright, scared that Josiah will stop breathing again, but there is something in his voice that calms him.

"I'm here, Josiah," Tim replies, standing up so that Josiah can see him. It is dark; Tim puts the lamp on the nightstand on. He blinks against the sudden warm, yellow light before he looks at Josiah.

The injured boy looks quite normal, now. His pupils aren't that big, anymore, and he looks at Tim with a slight smile on his lips.

"Hey," Tim whispers. "You're awake."

He doesn't dare to say that he is scared that Josiah is going to die.

The dark-haired boy nods, but his face immediately twists in pain.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he says when Tim rushes forward. "I'll always be fine as long as you're with me."

Tim feels his mouth drop open.

 _What?_ his brain screams, and that is exactly what he says.

"What?"

Josiah breathes in deeply, and a fear flows through Tim's body, but Josiah doesn't seem to be in pain.

"I never wanted you to leave," the dark-haired boy quietly explains. "I'm still in love with you. I'm glad that you're here, but... why are you here? I thought that you didn't want me, anymore."

Tim swallows difficultly and pinches his arm to see if he is dreaming. No, he isn't.

"Josiah, I'll always want you," he then says, his voice quiet. "I promise that I won't leave you again. I don't care what the other Gladers think of us. I'll stay with you. Always. At least, if that's what you want."

It is one of the truest things he has ever said in his life.

Josiah smiles carefully. "If you stay with me," he says, a glimpse of his usual sense of humour back in his voice, "then I'll try not to die. Deal?"

Tim grins back. "Deal."

 **I'm not even going to say something about this :)**


	33. Epilogue

ONE WEEK LATER

Flore is sitting on top of a picnic table, early in the morning. All of the picnic tables are standing in a circle, filled with Gladers, and inside that circle are the Keepers, sitting on chairs.

They had decided to keep the Gathering like that, so that all the Gladers could see it.

Two of the Keepers' chairs are empty, though – Gally's and Billy's. The two 'rulebreakers' are sitting on two other chairs, facing the Keepers, and seeming angry.

Flore can't hear what the Keepers are saying, but she can hear what Alby shouts as he stands up.

"All right, everybody, listen up!" the leaders yells. "The punishment for Gally of the Builders and Billy of the Baggers, for killing Victor the Greenie and attempting to kill Josiah of the Runners, is two weeks in the Slammer, only water and bread."

Flore smiles at the idea of the two big guys in the small hovel. They must be crazy by the time they can get out.

"Wow, now _that's_ a horrible punishment," she hears Josiah, who is sitting right next to her, whisper to Tim, and she giggles.

The injured Runner had convinced Tim that he was strong enough to get out of his bed, and apparently, he is. Flore finds the two simply said adorable together. She is so happy that they have given each other a second chance.

Alby's loud voice pulls her attention towards the Keepers again.

"Gathering clo-" he starts, but he gets cut off by Winston, who stands up.

"Excuse me, Alby," he says, sounding a little shy. "I've got an announcement to make."

He gestures that Flore has to come, and she stands up, frowning.

What is he trying to do?

As soon as she steps into the circle of Keepers, Winston grips her hand. Surprised, she gently squeezes his fingers, the way she always does when they hold hands. He squeezes back before turning to the Gladers.

"Flore and I," he shouts, uncontrollably smiling, "are officially a couple!"

"Huh?" Flore asks, surprised. Of course she had just assumed that they would be a couple by now, but they never said it out loud. "Are we?"

Winston smiles at her. "Yep."

And as he kisses her, all of the Gladers start to cheer.

 **LAST CHAPTER PEOPLE! Another story finished!**

 **PS: I'll post a deleted scene right after this, along with an author's note, so stay tuned please!**


	34. Bonus Stuff

**This is one of those scenes that just didn't fit into the story, because there wasn't enough space/time... But I loved writing this, and I found that you deserved it, because you've given me 1000 views and I never expected that to happen! Thank you so much, here is your reward! :)**

"Hi, Flore. Mind if I sit here?"

Flore smiles as she hears Newt's voice, using exactly the same words as she used at their first real conversation.

"Of course not. Sit down."

She moves a bit to the side so that the blond boy can sit next to her, with his back against the tree.

It is late in the evening, but all of the Gladers are still awake, though most of them are sitting around the campfire. It seems to be some kind of a tradition, a party; everyone is laughing and dancing. Some Gladers have drinks in their hands, and Flore wonders if they really have alcohol, and if so, where they got it.

The glow of the fire covers the whole Glade in a warm orange. It makes the whole place look so much cosier, even though it is surrounded by concrete walls.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Newt asks her, as if he can read her mind.

She nods.

"We've been doing this for nearly two years, now," the blond boy goes on, sounding lost in his thoughts. "Every month. We started making the campfire on the day that the First Gladers got here. It reminds us of that first day. It was horrible, but we found peace at the fire. Nick gave us a speech so that we felt better about the whole situation."

Flore swallows difficultly at the name of their leader. The Gladers talk about him with so much feeling that it nearly feels like she actually knows him.

"Gladers," Newt says in a deep voice – he must be imitating Nick. "This morning we woke up with nothing. Nothing, but ourselves, each other, and the clothes on our bodies. Now look at what we've achieved already. We know each other's names, we've got something to eat, we've got warmth from the fire."

He wildly gestures at everything he enumerates, making Flore giggle.

"Who knows, what tomorrow will bring?" he continues, still using the deep, rumbling voice. "Today, we've got names, food, and warmth, and maybe tomorrow, we'll find a way out of here!"

Newt's voice cracks because of the hidden laughter, and he starts to laugh. Flore giggles with him.

"Did he really say that?" she asks when she is done, her sides hurting.

Newt nods. "Yeah, he did. It was a terrible lie, but well... he couldn't know that we'd have to be here so much longer."

The boy puts a curl of his blond hair behind his ear, and as he does so, Flore notices something she hadn't noticed before.

"What are you wearing around your neck?" she asks, and before he can stop her, she already has the small pendant in her hand.

It is a metal circle, decorated with blue thread and silver feathers.

"A dreamcatcher," she says, letting go of the pendant. "Why?"

Newt is blushing by then, and he quickly tucks the dreamcatcher back into his shirt.

"To keep the nightmares away," he replies, looking at the ground, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

"You have nightmares?" Flore asks, and she immediately regrets asking that. Of course he has nightmares. With everything he has gone through...

It is silent for a while. They both don't know what to say, so they just look at the campfire and the shadows of the dancing Gladers.

"There's something I didn't tell you, you know," Newt then says. "There's something else that happened to me, something I've kept a secret."

Flore frowns – even more bad things? – but she replies: "You can tell me, if you want to. I won't tell anyone if you don't want that."

"Good that," Newt says, fidgeting with the silver chain around his neck. Then he sighs and says: "I was never attacked by Grievers. I just made that up so that nobody would think that I was crazy."

He is silent for a moment, and Flore quietly asks: "What happened?"

The blond boy looks at the ground. He looks smaller, so much smaller, as if his problems make him shrink.

"I tried to kill myself," he then whispers. "I climbed halfway up one of the walls and jumped down. Instead of getting what I wanted, I broke my ankle. And it _hurt_."

Flore gasps. She wants to ask him why he did it, but she already knows the answer. Because he had gone through too much. Because he couldn't take it anymore.

She knows that he is very tender, right now, and that she has to say something to comfort him, but she can't think up anything. There are too many questions in her head.

"Does anyone else know about this?" she gently asks.

Newt shakes his head. "Only Lauren and you do. Lauren knew because she had seen everything – she worked for the Creators – and you know because... well... I don't know, to be honest. I trust you, I guess."

He looks at her, scared brown eyes meet caring green ones.

"You don't think that I'm crazy, do you?" he asks, sounding uncertain.

Flore smiles at him, one of the most caring smiles she has ever smiled.

"You're a crazy shank, you know that?" she says, shaking her head, making laughter lace her voice. Before she even realizes what she is doing, she has wrapped her arms around Newt, gently rubbing his back.

"Of course you're crazy, Newt," she whispers. "One of the best crazy friends I've ever had."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, that was it, guys! That was the story, and I'm so so so soooo thankful that you've read all of this!**

 **Now, of course, all of the long stories I've written before always had a song in it. This story had two lines of a song, which I found a shame.**

 **So, here, the song I thought that fit the story:**

 **-** ** _Monster_** **by Imagine Dragons fits Tim, especially the couplets. It was also the song he sang in chapter 23.**

 **-** ** _Where you are_** **by Gavin DeGraw fits Josim, I guess. Yeah.**

 **-** ** _Everything has changed_** **by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran fits Florinston (NEW SHIP NAME!), especially the line 'green eyes, freckles and your smile', because that is quite exactly what Flore looks like.**

 **So, well, that was my story! I loved writing it! Special thanks to CheetaGirl9X9 (girl, your reviews always made my day!) and, of course, everyone else who has ever reviewed this story!**

 **Please, let me know what you think of this story (the bad things, too!) and keep an eye on my profile for more!**

 **Love you guys, have a wonderful day!**


End file.
